Hannah and her Daughter
by Rulid
Summary: The story surrounds Messalina Shepard and her mother Hannah, and how their troubled relationship progressed through the years. FemShep x Liara.
1. Prologue

**Bioware/EA holds the rights to all characters, names, locales etc. of the Mass Effect series.**

**The story surrounds Messalina Shepard and her mother Hannah during the events of the Eden Prime and Reaper Wars, but also going back and forth for thematic purposes. I've tried to keep most of the facts based on canon. Most characters are established with only a few OCs. **

**I've completed the story for now, but have left some loose ends here and there for other related stories. **

**Thank you everyone for reading/following/faving. Special thanks to Sun Tsu Toriden. **

* * *

- November, 2186

Space, beautiful and imperfect. The Illusive man was wrong, thought Messalina, as she looked about her in what seemed to be open space, open to the stars. All of space was beautiful, and only for all its imperfection. Vibrant pretty explosions patched the field with bright orange and flashes of red. Beautiful ships crumbled and crashed against the sleek and slender dark purple hue of the Reapers. Messalina wanted to breathe in and smell the vacant coldness of space. But when she breathed, her ribs ached. She laid a hand tenderly against her side, where an unnatural movement of her ribs told her that she had fractured a couple. It would explain why she was short of breath, coughing blood from time to time; some of her ribs must have punctured her lungs.

She wished she could sit down, but her right ankle was weird, and cried out everytime she put pressure on it. Besides, she couldn't trust herself to ever stand up again. It had taken her every effort to walk up to the control panel again.

"You have a choice." The irritable program persisted.

Messalina ignored the hologram. He took semblance of the boy she had seen when she had evacuated Earth. The boy in one of the Alliance HQ buildings -probably a family of one of the officers who worked there, a military brat, like herself. But she had become too desensitized to appreciate the novelty of the Catalyst having read her thoughts. Somewhere, she thought, in the mainframe of this wretched ghost machine, was a rude little program, provoking her. She briefly wondered if the Leviathan had been such an irritant and nagging race in its heyday. No, she shook her head, despite what the Leviathan wished to think, the AI had developed for Eons on its own. It had incorporated countless identities within itself. Leviathan had been diluted in its blood, and now the consensus of this machine was a jumbled mess, asking her for her opinion.

After drilling the little twit, she had made up her mind, of course. There was no doubt in her mind, and she felt at peace with herself. It was an odd feeling. She could rarely trace such tranquility. Even with Liara, she had never felt so much at peace. It had been more, and more later on, urgent with Liara, as if she were trying to inhale one last time. But this, it had felt familiar, like a hidden memory deep from her childhood.

She tried recalling every happy moment in her life. Despite being few enough as they were, they came with difficulty. It was difficult accessing her memory. A blinding headache rudely shouted at her. She took a deep breath again, eventually coughing up a fistful of blood.

Garrus… she thought, suddenly. Where was the damned Turian when you needed him. Ah, she sighed, she had pushed Liara on him… told him to get lost. Yes… So much for back up when you need him.

"I'd like to think I did him some good." She spoke aloud.

Either the hologram couldn't read her mind fully, or decided to ignore her, it didn't respond.

He'd be laughing his bony butt off, she thought. "Garrus, Garrus, Garrus…" she chirped to herself, walking forward. "Tali, Tali, Tali…"

Messalina paused. She had only moved three steps, but she was out of breath. She balled her fist, one hand tightly on the grip of her pistol. She was determined to recall all her friends, one last time, before she said good bye.

"Wrex," she said allowed. "Bakara. Grunt."

She stumbled, tripped, her pistol slid off a few feet. Gratefully, she could see that the hologram had disappeared; satisfied that she had made her choice. It was more fitting to be alone, now. Just like she imagined. Despite the hopes and dreams that Liara tried to instill in her, she knew what was coming around the corner for her. She had known for a couple of months, and maybe further than that. It had become her destiny. Something she had difficulty understanding at first, but later grew to accept. It was easier once you accepted it. She had to overcome the dread and fatality of it all. But once she was above the hill, everything seemed smooth.

She crawled a few more. "Zaeed.. Massani.. and …." She furrowed her eyebrows "Jesse. Jack… and Eezo. Yeah, that's about right."

She reached her pistol, closed her eyes and screamed as she pulled herself up with all her might.

"Thane, Kolyat, Kal, Bailey, Anderson…. Traynor… Jeff… EDI, Legion." Oddly, she now felt her strength returning to her. Cautiously, she stepped forward, feeling no pain in her ankle. "Javik, Admiral, Jacob…. Pressly."

Her breathing softened. "Am I dying? Funny thing, making such a fuss about dying. I guess I'll be finding out, soon enough. Mordin… Mordin… Kaidan. Yeah, see you soon, Mordin. Gosh. I have a lot of friends. Feron, Samara, Emma, Karen, Michel, Gabby, Kenneth, Rupert, Greg, Jacob, Kirrahe, Conrad… Yeah, here's to you, Conrad."

Her legs felt stronger, now, almost ready to run. "Miranda."

She tried to remember if she missed anyone. She felt light, at her peak. Every pain in her body seemed to have melted away.

"Oh, yeah... Ashley … bitch." She broke into a wicked smile.

Finally satisfied, she congratulated herself. She wanted to save two people for last, to call to them one last time.

"Mom… Liara…."


	2. Messalina

**Messalina**

- March, 2183

Joker had been particularly mouthful that morning. Messalina was aware of the popularity surrounding the young and talented pilot, with mild good looks and a wise crack that seemed to generate social gravity. But she knew where it was coming from and that most level-headed people around her let his boisterous attitude pass almost as a condolence for his unspoken ailments.

"I just jumped balls half way across the galaxy and hit a target the size of a pin-head so that's incredible."

While she would have usually put him in his place, she was a bit too distracted to be annoyed with him at the moment. Mom had called the other day; the usual routine of every other Thursday where the two-woman family would try to force each other to be a family once in a while. Hannah was married to her ship, and Messlina was divorced from her mother. Growing up as the daughter of Hannah Shepard meant that you usually did your job, silently and efficiently and then step into the next day. But the now Captain Shepard had recently been egging her on about her career and her life and what-not. Hannah was in no position to demand that her daughter settle down, having raised her single-handed in space, where duty called, and danger lurked behind the stars. And Messalina had responded accordingly, never being in anyone's way, doing what was expected of her and fulfilling her duties. But since she had gone through the rigorous N7 training, and then assigned as the executive officer for one of the most renown heroes of the Alliance, a small imp had taken residence on her left shoulder, telling her to never take crap from anyone. Anyone included Hannah.

Her level-headed geek lieutenant Kaidan chipped in, as if reading her thoughts. She had lost track of what they were talking about but it mostly seemed about the prevalent anti-Turian sentiment that had festered like an old wound throughout the early years of Alliance outreach into Council space. For some reason or another, humanity had all too often had to allow Council races aboard their star ships, ferrying them to and fro. Messalina remembered reading in the Westerlund News that ran an exclusive about Council races auditing the cooperation of the non-Council races. Messalina didn't mind Council space interference, mostly because she believed that humanity could never survive on its own, but also because it was none of her business. If matters did eventually drop in her lap somehow to make it so, she would care then.

"Joker!" Captain Anderson's voice broke out through the radio. "Tell Commander Shepard to meet me in the briefing room."

Captain Anderson should probably have made Admiral by now. To Messalina and Kaidan's age bracket he was a legend. And as the two had learned during their tour on the Normandy, he profusely emanated respect. Messalina often wondered who her father was, the man who had disappeared from her life before memory had settled in. He was definitely not someone like Anderson, but Messalina wished he were. The Captain had taken a keen interest in his executive officer, though the respect was long in coming. Messalina had survived the Skillian Blitz, and her Star of Terra had brought immense popularity that nearly eclipsed Anderson's own. Looking back, it seemed natural that Anderson had first looked at her with some degree of trepidation, whether the hot shot War Hero would actually follow command, would respect the chain, and act accordingly. Star ships, like their nautical ancestors of old, were always a fermenting ground for mutiny, lost in the sea of stars there was no knowing where a rogue ship would go. But Messalina turned out to be a modest and quiet person, when drilled about her experience in "single handed defense of Elysium", she had shrugged, almost disinterested. To Messalina it was, like her chores on Hannah's ship, just part of her job. Hence, began Messalina Shepard's tour of duty on the Normany as the most uneventful tour in her distinguished career. She took care of the crew, she listened when there was need, but not as a buddy, not as a friend, she merely lent her ear when it required smoothing over.

The irritation in Anderson's voice was something she did not like. It required smoothing over. And it was most probably because Joker had mouthed off again.

"Great," she muttered, seething with annoyance, "Now you made him angry."

"Captain Anderson always sounds angry," Joker offered a mild apology.

"Only when he's talking to you." Kaidan Alenko, biotic, Shepard's ever loyal right hand man interjected. Shepard appreciated Kaidan, the staff lieutenant and head of the marines on the Normandy. Despite his position as the top marine, Kaidan always deferred judgement to Shepard when necessary, not out of weakness or insecurity, but out of the glaringly obvious fact that Shepard was an excellent battle commander on the field. Messalina, in her turn, always respected Kaidan, especially considering that he was one of the rare biotic humans. Other than his biotic powers, which Messalina considered fascinating, she knew that such abilities were not without consequence. And unlike many biotics who would flaunt their abilities to doing every menial task with their mind, Kaidan was quiet and reserved, like Messalina.

Without replying, she quietly left the cockpit and headed to the back of the ship. Doctor Karen Chakwas, who had a penchant for talking to anyone and everyone who would listen, was chatting off with Private Jenkins. Despite his voiced disappointment in not seeing much action, Jenkins seemed excited to talk about his home planet of Eden Prime.

"But I want to see some action!" he exclaimed. "I didn't join the Space Marines to just go traipsing home."

It was amusing, considering that Jenkins was usually homesick.

"Reckless behavior on the field usually ends up with me stitching you up on the slab, Private." Doctor Chakwas had seen her share of action during the early years of the Alliance. She had seen too many eager Privates, and the silent look she beseechingly threw Messalina spoke of premonitions that Jenkins would not fare well on his first mission.

"It's just a routine drop off, Private," Messalina replied dryly. "I doubt we'll be requiring anything nearly heroic enough to satiate your blood lust."

"Easy for you to say, Commander. Everyone knows what you did on Elysium."

It was the same everywhere she went, which made her appreciate the silence of space and the solitude of her bunk. Everyone asked her what it was like on Elysium. Words could not sum up what she had seen, but more importantly she really felt no need to relate that to anyone.

Messalina gave the Private her signature shrug.

The Normandy crew had already christened it as "the Shepard's wall of silence", which effectively stated 'I don't care, don't continue this line of dialogue, and return to duty' and finalized by what had become her catchphrase to the crew: "I have to go."


	3. Eden Prime

**Eden Prime**

- March, 2183

Dead Council Agent, a colony in flames, death robots, a destroyed artifact, and Jenkins. Considering these things Messalina shouldn't have considered her weird dreams important, and neither should have Anderson. Sitting at the edge of the sickbay 'slab' she recalled how Chakwas had warned Jenkins about a similar fate, which unfortunately seemed to have been an understatement. Anderson was pacing about in frustration at the botched mission and Messalina's passing out on the site didn't seem like much to fuss over. But Chakwas had brought the subject up, and for some reason it was now on center stage.

"A vision?" Anderson drilled.

"More like a nightmare." Messalina rubbed her temples.

"Of what?"

"Synthetics wiping out organics.. Death and destruction." Messalina tried to concentrate on the weird images that flashed in her head, but the imagery was too dense to make any sense. When she tried to focus on a particular image it blurred past in hurried confusion, like a broken video feed that skipped through hefty chunks of frames.

"Geth?" Alenko offered.

"It's silly but despite our run in with those robots, I haven't seen them in my visions." Messalina admitted.

"Dreams are usually fragments of our memory." Chakwas offered. "Dumped overload of imagery in our brains. The Commander's dreams are intense, showing extreme condensation of neural activity whenever she tries to recall them. It's more likely that it might be some form of psychic data transfer from the artifact, and not simply a dream."

Messalina was no scientist, but she was a trained covert operative used to accepting information and processing them quickly. She had prided herself of her ability to sort through relevant information on the field, and her senses told her that Chakwas's assessment of the situation was correct. It was no dream.

"Unfortunately, if it were information from the Prothean beacon it's a locked box for now." Messalina concluded. "The format may be incompatible with human physiology."

Chakwas nodded. "I agree with the Commander, Captain. Whatever is stored inside her head may have been meant for other Protheans only."

"We have to report this to the Council." Anderson seemed to be catching at straws. As much as Messalina was fond of her mentor, she could see that he hadn't much to go on. The mission was botched and the Council operative was dead. Humanity didn't look good in this situation. As far as the Turians were concerned, humanity had overreached its ability to protect itself on a colony world. There would be some down valuation to restrictions on Alliance ships and colonies, with the downsized quota of colonization given to the Elcor or Volus.

"And tell them what? That I had a bad dream?" Messalina shook her head. She was looking at some severe charges against her and the fantastic story of an ancient civilization passing her visions of gory death didn't seem to fit any form of report she would sum up. "What happened to Chief Williams? We could use a statement from the local marine detail."

"We brought her on board, ma'am." Alenko offered.

"She's on the ship?" Messalina didn't like the Gunnery Chief. She seemed typically earth-born, begrudged and overprotective of the place of humanity in the galaxy. Spacers, Earth-born and Colonists never got on well. The Alliance political structure had only recently allowed representation of the Colonies, and that was only for the most populous colonies, while Spacers were generally regarded as people in transit. It was unfair, considering that most Spacers like Messalina never set foot on a planet most of their lives.

Hannah was a single mother who had found living on a ship was the most affordable environment to raise her daughter. And like most Spacers, Hannah and Messalina had a nationality belonging to some country on earth, but usually forgot about it and had to dig up personnel files to recall what pseudo address they were registered to on Earth. Furthermore, like most Spacers Messalina was typically uncomfortable with the natural gravity that planets emitted. It was rough and slightly off from the standard gravity that was controlled to 0.95 G on any ship or station to match the galactic standard of the Citadel. Planetary gravity always made Messalina tense, as if she were on a mission. It helped making her focus on a mission but it was tiresome.

But Earth-born usually considered their Space-born cousins as unpatriotic, unrooted and oft times traitorous to the needs of the Mother Planet. There were several Earth-born conservative political movements, like the Gaian movement, Terra Firma and extremist terrorist groups like the fabled Cerberus organization which cemented the image of Earth-born as typically 'speceist' against aliens in the Spacer's mind, while Spacers who had the most contact with aliens and were often in precarious positions based on the whim of the Council begrudged the vocal dissent of the Earth-born against aliens.

Alenko and Anderson were more sympathetic Earth-born as they spent the majority of their adult lives off world. But Williams was young, and fierce, and had taken the plight of Eden Prime as another excuse to propound her views of Solidarity to Messalina during their short encounter.

"I don't want her on my ship." Messalina spat.

"It's my ship." Anderson rebuked her, irritably. "And Williams is a hardy warrior, a good addition to our crew."

"Just one step away from Cerberus." Messalina argued. Usually quiet of her own opinions, she found her extreme dislike of Earth-born suddenly exploding.

"That is totally unfair, Commander." Anderson scolded. "I want you to go talk to her and finish your report of the incident including her statement. I want that report on my desk before 6 hours ETA Citadel."

Anderson turned heel and exited the sickbay. Kaidan hurried after him.

"That was a bit too much, Commander." Chakwas noted, but Messalina could see that she was smiling.

"See you for dinner later, Doctor?" Messalina jumped off the slab. The two usually dined together, which Messalina admitted was one of the few friendships she fostered on the ship.

"I'll bring some fresh fruits I picked up on our last port. My treat." Chakwas offered.

Messalina found Ashley Williams on the crew deck with several of the Normandy marines clustered around her. She was almost the polar opposite of Messalina. Williams, with her dark healthy complexion and wholesome figure, seemed to attract interested men like a magnet, while Messalina who was small, petite with a wiry frame usually chased everyone away with a cold uninterested stare. Messalina caught Williams's eye and called her over.

Williams took some time to disengage herself from the coterie of men, but the marines quickly made themselves scarce when they caught Messalina glaring at them.

"You wanted to see me, Commander?"

"You seem to be fitting in well." Messalina could see that Ashley's feeling toward her were mutual.

"Captain Anderson was kind enough to invite me on board. I'm looking forward to working with him."

Messalina frowned. "Put your priorities straight, Chief. You're now a Normandy marine. You report to Lieutenant Alenko; He reports to me. And I do not remember welcoming you on board."

"Captain Anderson seems to think otherwise." Ashley retorted evenly.

"If it were my ship I would not have tolerated some deserter like you."

"I did not desert my men." Ashley nearly shouted. "I told you on Eden Prime and I'm telling you again now: I held up as long as possible."

"Well I only have your word for it." Messalina noted. "I hope your report reads with enough clarity and objectivity than what you're giving me now. Get to it, Chief."

Without saluting, Ashley left for the barracks. Messalina caught a muffled expletive as Ashley passed her.

"Don't be too hard on her, Commander." Kaidan's offered as he came up from behind.

"You're one to talk," Messalina threw him a glare. "What were you thinking when you activated the beacon?"

Kaidan hung his head. "Sorry about that, ma'am."

"I expect more from you, Lieutenant." Messalina continued. "I can't have you poking about like some unprincipled child. You're the marine commander, for crying out loud." Kaidan offered no excuse. "If you ever pull a stunt like that again I will vehemently see to it that you are severely disciplined."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Excused."

Messalina spent the next couple of hours on coffee while reviewing the telemetry data from her armor. She compiled Geth battle data from her helmet visor and rifle computer, sorting out four or five different Geth models. Messalina had an exceptional track record of sorting out battle field data. It was mostly possible since Messalina generally prefered sniping from tactical positions, which allowed her a clear view of the field and returned single shot damage reports more accurate than what would be generated by random dispersed rifle fire. There was no doubt the data alone would be pored over by outsourced Quarian engineers after submission to the Council. Noticeably, Williams had suggested in her report to keep most of the Geth data classified for Alliance eyes only. Messalina discarded the memo without a second thought.

The husks were what worried Shepard. There had been random reports of Dragon Tooth devices before, but it was the first time Messalina had seen the biomechanical transition first hand. What bothered her was the uncharacteristic need for a machine society to turn captives into drones. Her perception of artificial intelligence dictated that Geth would more likely replicate more mobile platforms and exterminate organics than painstakingly develop technology that would mutate biomatter.

Another important statement was from the dock worker Anton Powell who reported another Turian who shot Nihlus. Indeed, Nihlus's autopsy revealed that he was killed by a Mass Effect projectile than an energy weapon typical of the Geth.

The final report looked abysmal: Messalina would have to report that Geth were in collusion with a putative Turian whom Nihlus may have been familiar with, and the Geth have in some way developed technology to convert organics into synthetic drones, which may be indicative of another source directing the Geth, possibly the phantom Turian. Was there a Turian rogue group analogous to Cerberus within their own hierarchy? Blue Suns activity? But none of those explanations allowed cooperation with the Geth.

"I need more data." Messalina muttered to herself. Grudgingly she submitted the report to Anderson.


	4. Citadel

**Citadel**

-March, 2183

Messalina watched in awe at the Citadel as they made their approach. Returning to a star port was her favorite part of every tour. The relaxing comfort of a space station with open arms, accepting the suckling of the hungry ships that had been away felt like home. She recalled the first time her mother had taken her to the Citadel. The bickering mother and daughter had fallen silent as the Citadel appeared within the nebula. Larger than any space station she had ever seen, it had taken her breath away. Messalina recalled fondly the white pristine corridors, and the fascinating aliens that hurried about their business. It had been the first time she had seen some aliens, like the Drell with their desert hardened scales, and the towering Krogan. But it was the Asari that had completely enamoured Messalina, as a lithe beautiful blue alien had swayed by tossing a fond sheepish smile at the bewildered girl. That had been a lovely day.

"Look at the size of that thing!" Messalina's reverie was interrupted by Ashley Williams who had hurried up to the cockpit. "Its main gun can probably tear any ship apart with a single shot."

"Size isn't everything," Joker grumbled.

"Jealous much, Joker?" Ashley laughed.

"Are you kidding? I could fly circles around that thing before it even fires a shot."

"Good thing its on our side." Messalina offered.

"Is it on our side?" Ashley countered. "I don't doubt that the Council races would throw us at the Batarians if they ever invaded Council space. And I don't see the Destiny Ascension riding cavalry to save the day."

"The Destiny Ascension is the last best defense for the Council and the Citadel, Williams." Messalina groaned. "It serves a specific purpose. I have no doubt that the Asari fleet would lend a hand if things turned sour."

"And where were the Asari during the Skyllian Blitz?"

"We took care of ourselves well enough, Chief."

"If it wasn't for you we would have lost Elysium to the Batarians, Commander."

Shepard shrugged. "As I said, we can take care of ourselves."

"And what if it weren't the Batarians who were firing the shots?"

Messalina glowered at Williams. "We are not at war with the Asari, Chief."

"Just saying, Commander. You never know when the aliens will turn on us. Look at what happened to the Batarians. The moment we go against their wishes we'll get the boot and set upon by whoever is up for grabs."

Messalina shook her head and left the bridge. Behind her she could hear Kaidan admonishing the Chief. As his voice wandered off into the distance, Messalina glanced upon the vast Star Map on the navigational board. She knew that most of the crew were either Earth-born or staunch supporters of Solidarity. The recent addition of a beautiful young marine warrior woman with out spoken views had rallied the crew towards a more Earth-centric view. How could they see that same map of stars and think so differently?

"Williams giving you a hard time?" the nasal voice of Charles Pressly jumped in.

"I did not say that." Messalina shrugged.

"We've known each other too long for you to pull that bullshit on me, Commander." Pressly had been on Elysium aboard the Agincourt. "But you have to admit that she has a point."

"I am not hearing this, Pressly."

"The crew also thinks that you're blaming Williams for Jenkins."

"What... How it that even possible, Pressly?" Messalina shot a scalding look at the navigator.

"Just relaying what they're saying, ma'am." Pressly replied, unfazed. "It's not whether it's true, Commander. It's what the people say that matters."

"Huh," Messalina shrugged and stalked off the deck.

The meeting with Ambassador Udina and the subsequent hearing before the Council went as smoothly as a Dreadnought trying to land. Ashley was fuming with indignity as Messalina led the group towards the bowels of the Citadel. The scores of aliens that passed them by lulled Shepard into a silent awe at the sense of Galactic Community, but obviously had a different effect on the Gunnery Chief.

"I can't seem to tell the aliens from animals." She quipped.

Messalina tossed her a glare. "We do not want to continue this discussion, Chief."

"How can you even say that, Commander? After what we've just been through." Ashley retorted. Kaidan seemed to have gotten used to the bickering between Messalina and Ashley. Ever since Ashey came on board, the fiery soldier had made every attempt to conflict with Shepard, and the Commander who had usually been silent and distant had in no way tried to abate the situation, rising to every occasion. "The loss of every colonist and marine on Eden Prime swept away by a word of a Spectre."

"Which we're investigating now, aren't we?" Messalina argued. "Due process, Williams."

Ashley was not backing down. "And what happens when-"

Messalina cut her short. "We'll worry about that as it comes, Williams."

Kaidan quickly pulled Ashley back.

"I'm more curious about this Spectre," Messalina continued. "Was he the Turian on Eden Prime? How did he get first hand knowledge to develop a position on Nihlus's murder so quickly? There's something wrong about it. And I think that C-sec officer is our best lead right now."

"Really?" Ashley sighed. "You're wagering that a Turian will go against a Turian to side for Humanity?"

"I'm expecting a C-Sec officer would go against a suspicious Spectre to side for the truth, Williams."


	5. The Bear and the Dog

**The Bear and the Dog**

-October, 2186

"So, I have to ask, Commander, Why me?"

Messalina woke up with a sudden jolt, opening her eyes finding herself in the comfort of her bed as the stars streamed by overhead. Liara was asleep by her side, usually easily stirring but now uncharacteristically deep in sleep. The final confrontation with Kai Leng had obviously drained her and the anticipation they shared as they embarked to the rendezvous with the Fifth fleet had taken its toll.

If there was ever doubt that Messalina sometimes felt in her new body constructed by Cerberus, it grew scarce with each nightmare of Virmire. Ashley's voice still invaded her dreams, more frequently as of late. Messalina awoke from these nightmares drenched in sweat. She had never got on well with Ashley. She could barely recall a pleasant moment the two had conversed. But lately Ashley's voice hung over her head with dread.

Virmire had been a horrible ordeal.

She looked down at Liara who scrunched her nose bridge as if smelling something vile. Messalina was often amazed at what life brought, and it had fulfilled a small wish to have a beautiful Asari girlfriend. Messalina saw that a small strand of her hair had fallen out and settled on Liara's face. Gently, trying to to wake her she carefully pinched the strand away.

Kaidan had once told her that Ashley always looked up at Shepard as the Paragon of Humanity, a super-hero, a woman in tights. Messalina never felt like a hero. Not after the Skyllian Blitz, not after Ilos, and not even after Omega. She had always done her duty because it required doing. It was never about being a hero.

"Difficulty sleeping, Shepard?" Liara's eyes fluttered open, gazing up to Shepard as a hand gracefully traced along Messalina's arm.

"Just curious, Liara, do we have to wait three centuries to have kids?"

Liara nodded solemnly. "I'll just have to ask Miss Lawson to rebuild you again until I feel ready."

"Why can't I be the mother?"

Liara chuckled as she got up, covering her nakedness with the sheet. "Well frankly I never thought you'd want to be a mother."

"That's irritating." Messalina grumbled as she keyed the fish tank to release some food.

"Besides, between you and me, I'm the more nurturing person." Liara scoffed in mock derision.

"Okay, you can be the mother." Messalina shrugged. "I never liked Mothers, anyway."

"Come one, Shepard." Liara sighed. "What's really bothering you?"

"Just thinking," Messalina moved on to feed the hamster. For someone who lived her life alone on board a ship, Messalina's penchant for pets spoke volumes of the toll solitude brought to her.

"About... children?" Liara arched her eyebrows.

"Something like that." Messalina tossed a small rubber ball into the hamster cage, watching Boo jump at it savagely.

"Hmmm," Liara closed her eyes, concentrating on the psyche emanating from Shepard, and frowned. "Messalina," she admonished.

"What?" Messalina frowned defensively.

"Is that why you were asking about children?" Liara sighed. "Death?"

Messalina walked back to the edge of the bed. "I don't think I've ever processed all those deaths properly. Even after I was recovered, I've hardly had time to think about it."

"Want to talk about it?"

"I keep dreaming of Virmire, Liara."

"Oh, Shepard." Liara drew Messalina close to her in warm embrace.

* * *

- April, 2183

Messalina finally found time to smooth things out with Ashley as she made her way down to the cargo bay. With the addition of alien crew members, the cargo bay had become the place where most of her ground squad gravitated to. Ashley was cleaning out her weapons dutifully. It seemed to be almost a preoccupation for the Gunnery Chief, as she constantly set about cleaning everyone's firearms, except Wrex's, after each mission.

"Got some time?" Messalina approached cautiously.

"No," Ashley replied bluntly and continued to clean her weapons.

"We need to stop doing this, Ash." Messalina chided.

"You're letting aliens traipse around on the most advanced war ship in the Alliance. You scorn off Rear Admiral Mikhailovich who rightfully demands to inspect this vessel. You keep Krogan bounty hunters around the armory. And you seem to be actively flirting with that Asari." Ashley threw up her hands. "I don't even know who you are, now."

"Who do you think I am?" Messalina asked patiently.

"You're the goddamn hero of the Alliance. I've never met a Star of Terra awardee before. You're the beacon for all us space marine girls. And you turn out to be an alien sympathizer."

"Is that what I am? Alien sympathizer?"

Ashley folded her arms. "Don't call me a bigot for not sharing your fondness of aliens, Shepard."

"It's a big galaxy, Ash. We have to work with them."

"It's more like working for them." Ashley shook her head. ""Look, if you walk in the woods with your dog and get attacked by a bear, you'll let your dog get killed attacking the bear so you can run away and live. Because as much as you love your dog, he's not a human person."

"Please leave the animal-alien metaphor at the door, Williams."

"Don't you see? We're the dog, Shepard." Ashley glared, venomously. "The Council races will gladly sic us at any threat without a second thought. Because we're alien to them. And we humans have to look out for each other. Because, like it or not we're being suffocated under alien heel."

"The galaxy has seen thousands of years of cooperation between races-"

"Tell that to Wrex." Ashley shot back. She shook her head in frustration. "You're servile. Utterly, utterly passive, Shepard."

"You don't think I won't look out for you on the field?" Messalina stared at her. "You're my crew, Williams. I look out for my crew, alien or not."


	6. Had to be Me

**Had to be me**

- August, 2185

"Humans show the most genetic variety." Mordin explained, in his usual off-handed manner. His manner of speech often irritated many, but Messalina understood Mordin more than anyone. He was very much like her in the way he placed others at arms length. The subject at hand was not personal, and being personal was not the issue. From the corner of her eye she could see Miranda becoming uncomfortable at his line of reasoning, and being human Messalina felt somehow responsible to transfer Miranda's discomfort to Mordin.

"So, you're saying human genetic diversity allows for an excellent test bed than most other species, in a scientific point of view?" Messalina cautiously eyeballed Miranda while facing Mordin.

"Can extrapolate a general Asari, Turian or Salarian response to certain physiologic stimuli to a certain statistical certainy contained in a practical extent. Not so with human. More diverse, more varied. Excellent basis to experiment on for uncertain outcomes."

Miranda's squint now became nearly vicious.

"Seems reasonable." Messalina nodded.

"Using humans for tests is wrong!" Miranda nearly shouted.

"Not debating morality of experiments." Mordin stated in a matter of fact manner.

"I don't condone experiments on sentient species, Miranda," Messalina explained, slowly, "We're just trying to figure out why-"

"You're the hero of humanity, Shepard."

* * *

- October, 2186

Then what am I doing here?

Messalina stood before the ancient structure, that resisted so vehemently against her common sense of mind. The tower spiraled to unfathomable heights, solid and advanced, yet ancient all the same. Mordin busily packed his equipment. Standard hacking tools, serum from the Krogan brood mother, and other carefully packaged materials to transfer and process the airborne phage for contingencies unforseen.

Why am I doing this?

She stood rooted on the spot as she watched Mordin finish checking his equipment before making his way to the elevator.

"Mordin," she barely managed to speak.

"Had to be me." Mordin shrugged, as he turned to face Messalina beyond the now closing transparent doors.

Messalina placed a hand on the barrier, trying to touch her friend.

Here I stand on the barren world of Tuchanka, the home of the Krogan that Wrex vehemently demanded saving in hostage for the Turian cause. And for that she had tripped over the Salarians on her way over. Here stands a Salarian, burdened by his guilt that their common experience together had flowered, walking off nonchalantly towards his death. The irony of the situation rained torrents upon her, rendering her speechless.

Mordin's eyes, large and reptilian, danced away at her, poking her in amusement at her predicament. Perhaps besides Liara, Mordin understood Messalina the most. No matter how hard she strove to overcome, she brought ruin and guilt in her wake. And every moment of the galaxy held balance in her mind upon the small mitigating circumstances crystallized by a myriad of acquaintances she could personalize the issues with. Wrex, Mordin, Eve, Grunt, Garrus, Okeer, Saren, Rana Thanoptis, Maelon, Wreav, they all dwindled down to this moment in time where Mordin's trajectory toward death was inevitable.

"Someone else might have gotten it wrong." Mordin smiled.

She could almost hear the connotations of his words plummet down on her.

Liara stirred her mug in silent reservation with her pen as she watched Messalina at the edge of her bed. She had chased Glyph out of her office and bolted the door, but Messalina still failed to budge. Messalina needed time processing Mordin's death. She knew Messalina barely survived Wrex's jubilation at the cure of the genophage. Messalina, the savior of the Krogan race could hardly bear the ordeal of faceless Krogans pumping her hand as she trudged toward the shuttle that returned her home.

"Home," Liara ventured at the end of her thought. Messalina stirred. "Your home is here, isn't it?"

Messalina stared at her lover in confusion.

"It's where you were born." Liara settled down her mug and walked across the multiple displays that angled towards her movement. "It's where you died. And it's where you've been born again."

Liara walked over to Messalina, placing a palm on her cheeks.

"To call you human is circumstantial. Gravity encumbers you more than you know. It would be an exaggeration to say that your mother gave you birth."

"Liara," Messalina groaned automatically at the word 'mother'. Liara quickly placed a finger on Messalina's mouth.

"You carry the weight of all sentients on your shoulder." Liara proceeded, "and you expect to understand the weight through sentient experiences. That is your irony, Shepard."

"How else?" Messalina defiantly snapped.

Liara smiled, cautiously taking a step back. "Is there a solution?"

"If you're saying that what the Illusive man is trying to do, controlling the Reapers, is in any way justifiable-"

Liara shook her head. "It's not, Shepard. Thinking that there must be a logical solution to an illogical puzzle is what plagues you."

"Then what?" Messalina deflated.

"We strive." Liara shrugged. "We do what we can, what we must, when we can, to what all life eventually tries to do within their finite life. Civilization is a process, Shepard. It rises to meet the challenges of sentient beings trying to bridle the universe. Is that an imperative? Is that natural? Is that moral? They strive on without answering these questions. But you, my love, are placed in a unique position, through your endeavors, to make judgement before all that has come to pass and all that hangs in balance. You fumble, frustrated, because the tools at your disposal seem rudimentary and callous, sometimes too weak, sometimes too brittle. But like any civilization that has passed on into memory, the choice is never an imperative. It is merely Us, ever striving to survive for another day."

"What am I doing, Liara?" Messalina sighed.

"Sometimes, Shepard," Liara walked back to her desk, "what you are doing is enough. Accepting that there are things that we cannot do may be difficult, but you must allow for that."

Messalina finally found courage to enter the entertainment lounge.

Ashley Williams was staring out the window toward the vastness of space, holding herself tightly. Messalina was certian that her reflection on entering had caught the Lieutenant Commander's eyes, but the air between them was as frigid as ever, and Ashley refused to notice her discomfort.

"Heard the mission went well, Shepard."

Messalina nodded as she joined Ashley in staring at nothing.

"Buried another friend."

Ashley shrugged, indifferent. "You'd think you'd become used to that by now."

"It's never easy." Messalina found herself trying to explain again.

"Funny how life rolls you," Williams continued. "Remember we were trying to stop Saren from curing the genophage back on Virmire. I wonder what the LT would say now. I wonder..." But Ashley caught herself from saying any further.


	7. Subject Zero

**Subject Zero**

- August, 2185

"Vandalism, Theft of a military vessel, joined up a cult..." Jack continued boasting about her endeavors.

Messalina let out a deep heartfelt sigh from within. Jack's rote of lifetime achievements only made Messalina want to padlock the stairwell to the dim lit basement the two were conversing in. Among the stack of crates, Messalina could make out the makeshift bed Jack had set up on the floor, and none to surprisingly, the beginnings of graffiti on the pristine walls of the Normandy.

Her initial impulse was to scrunch down and start wiping the walls with detergent. It shocked her to no end when her mind began wrapping around the fact that she had instinctively thought so. She silently cursed Hannah Shepard again, before determining she wasn't going to go all Miranda on Jack.

"Well, good for you." Messalina finally said.

Jack squinted her eyes at Shepard. "Aren't you going to ask me about it?"

Messalina pondered the colorful tattoos running up and down Jack's body. It all screamed of a call for attention. Messalina had to admit that was her first impression of Jack. Juvenile, childish, and irresponsible. The difference between the acts of violence between Zaeed and Jack could be expressed as the difference between a well aged brandy and moonshine, respectively, of course. While Zaeed seemed to brim with quiet murderous anger, Jack flaunted about in abandon, sometimes literally.

"I am sure you'll tell me anyway." Messalina muttered.

"Huh?" Jack couldn't catch Messalina, and Shepard's usual wry grim face was as forthcoming as a rock. As predicted, Jack went on to boast about her time in piracy, her random acts of violence, the decimated Hanar moon and much more. Despite the severe level of violence related in her tales Messalina found herself growing bored. Unlike Zaeed's stories of murder and butchery, Jack's story lacked narrative. Perhaps it was the consistent interruption of narrative with Jack's habitual "you know?" to which Messalina would catch herself from involuntarily replying "Yes, I know".

Watching Jack, Messalina was again his with a quiet surprise at how many wanted or would be criminals she was harboring aboard the Normandy. The Baby Krogan, the Juvenile delinquent and the Human Warlord were all residing on the same floor, like some nightmarish sitcom. She briefly wondered if she should pull Tali from the engine room and have her stay in the crew quarters with the lesser evils of the ship. At least Garrus would keep her from the murderous crazies.

"You know," Jack began, to Messalina's ire, "you and I could go all pirate."

"Huh?" It was Messalina's turn to get fazed. "You want to be my first mate?"

"This ship packs quite a punch." Jack explained, excitedly. "I bet we can subjugate worlds with this. I'll take care of all the murderous rampage you need. You know. Like Executions and stuff."

"What stuff?" Messalina tried to concentrate on Jack.

"Huh?"

"You said, 'Executions and stuff'. What else are you planning to do?"

"You know," Jack spat irritably. "killing."

"Which is executions." Messalina tried desperately to wrap her head around Jack's thinking.

Jack glared venomously at Messalina. "Leave me alone, Shepard."

Messalina sighed and picked herself up from the floor. Her short conversation with Jack had left her with severe doubt at the Illusive Man's plan of action.

"I just don't know why he's calling himself the 'Illusive man'." Messalina complained back in her cabin. The private encoded communicator was outfitted with the most advanced encryption only available to the most formidable intelligence agencies in the galaxy. It was even beyond Cerberus technology, hence it served as Messalina's frequent unadulterated gossip line to the Shadow Broker.

"Shepard," The Shadow Broker sighed in a genuine loss of words.

"Switch off that voice filter, T'Soni." snapped Messalina.

"All right," the Shadow Broker's voice returned to the melodious tones of the Asari scholar.

Messalina toyed around with the picture frame that held Liara's image on her desk. She had changed into her N7 hoodie, her legs up-stretched on her desk with Boo scurrying around on her belly, eating off the crumbs Messalina sprinkled once in a while.

"What does that even mean?" Messalina complained. "I'm not even sure what he wants me to do."

"Should you be doing everything he asks you to do?"

"Hmmm." Liara always made a good point. Messalina attributed it to the reserved nature of her Asari companion. Messalina, while somewhat detached from most human interactions, was still the "doer" in their relationship rather than the "thinker", which Liara had comfortably settled into. "I still have to make sure this 'team', if you can call it that, functions when we go through that relay."

"Shepard, you really can't expect to have your team functioning properly in their current state of mental confusion. Besides, I hardly think you yourself has come to terms with, so to speak, being born again."

Boo had started shitting himself on Messalina's stomach. Messalina picked the rodent up by its neck and carried it to the plastic cage she had bought on Illium.

"How are you feeling?" Liara gently intoned.

Messalina shrugged the small nail clipping sized Hamster shit to the floor, opened the cage and dropped Boo in. Boo immediately set about making itself comfortable with the wood scrapings. "Caged."

"Interesting," Liara commented. "coming from an ex-Spectre in bed with Cerberus flying around in a resurrected body in a resurrected ship with ties to no nation."

"I see ahead, Liara." Messalina whispered, just audible enough. "to just that point in time, where there's a mission, and there's an objective."

Boo had climbed onto its treadmill, running frantically, as is his life depended on it.

"You have choice, Messalina." assuaged Liara.

"Really?" Messalina let out a short derisive laugh. "You think we'll be spending next month on vacation on Ilos? You think we'll be walking our kids through Prothean ruins? Then why the hell aren't you here? Why the hell am I risking my life to save an ingrate Galaxy than being there with you?"

"Because you don't want to." Liara drove the ball home bluntly.

Messalina was at a loss of words. It happened when talking to Liara vis-a-vis Garrus or Kaidan, who would usually meander off to a safe distance.

"You don't want to stay here in Hagalaz, as much as I don't want to leap through the Omega-4 relay with you. It's not about feelings, Messalina. It's about what you will sacrifice with yourself no matter what the cost. I will do everything I can to help you survive for just one more day. And you will do everything to ensure that you save the Galaxy."

Messalina watched Boo rapidly churning his wheel, in persistent focused Sisyphean energy.

"Don't fool yourself, Shepard." Liara continued. "You wander off from your purpose in life, once in a while, to grasp at meaning. But you know in your core that what you are meant to be in life is a Savior. Ashley often preached her religion to me, of a Savior that willingly gave himself to save the soul of everyone else, equally ungrateful as the Galaxy is now. Do you know what intrigued me the most?"

Messalina was atheistic. Her scientist/soldier mother had never allowed much mysticism in their lives. "What?"

"That he, too, had doubts in the end. It was an interesting fable, though I did get tired of Ashley's vigor. You know what I'm telling you, Shepard."

Messalina watched as Boo, exhausted, jumped off the wheel.

"That I'm going to die, Liara." Messalina concluded, sotto voce.


	8. Elysium

**Elysium**

- July, 2176

"Lieutenant Shepard,"

The man was thin, but somehow also emanated a sense of uncanny physical strength, almost like a Turian. His peppered hair was combed back to reveal a high forehead, and a straight roman nose, which all combined to make him seem more and more like a Turian with a smooth leather mask on.

All the while her eyes dissected him, Messalina had smoothly stood up and offered a crisp salute, which was returned immediately. You could tell by the manner in which one salutes what an officer thinks of herself and the military service in general. A superior who lets the subordinate hang in place for too long before returning a brusque quick one usually is pregnant with some delusions of his stature. On the other hand, one who dismisses saluting entirely usually ekes of poor discipline. Finding the right time to return a salute told a lot about the man. And like the fable of Goldilocks, his was just right, sending her the right message that "I honor the uniform, and I respect you, too, Junior."

Messalina had been saluting ever since she was three years old and living on a space station, like most military brats. Grandmother had passed away at an early age, and Father and Hannah had entrusted her to Rear Admiral (retired) Alan Shepard, a.k.a. Grandpa. An intelligence officer, but more of a scientist at heart, he had been Hannah's mentor when he introduce her to Father. Grandpa had retired early, a few months before the first-contact war erupted. When the first contact war broke out he maintained a civilian employment aboard the space station as an outside consultant, writing strategic proposals and reviewing intelligence to the suddenly understaffed war department, while rearing his granddaughter while her parents were away at war. He was the one who first introduced Messalina to the game of "Tell me twenty things about this picture" early on, which she later came to understand as basic Intelligence officer training. Grandpa was quite a martinet, but very affectionate toward his only granddaughter. His attachment grew closer, when a few months later, Father was killed in action during the final phases of the war. Messalina had been three at the time and hardly remembered Father. The two remained on Arcturus station while Hannah went off to support the family, later relocating to other smaller stations as the aftermath of the war settled in and Alan Shepard's services became less and less required.

The aftermath was hard on Grandpa as the aftermath meant that he had to endure close contact with Turians, the race who killed his son, on a daily basis. Turians, who politically seemed so nonchalant about the whole War, as if saying "let bygones be bygones", were equally aggressive toward the old man on a personal level. Later did Messalina understand that their losses dwarfed the human casualties. Either through stress of sadness, Grandpa soon passed away, forcing Hannah to return to station duty from her promising career to raise her only remaining family by herself. Hannah was different than Grandpa, and soon the two settled into a routine where they avoided each other if possible, culminating with Hannah eventually requesting permission to raise her daughter on a war ship. Even a space station seemed too stationary for the star struck Hannah, who had seemed to whither among the bureaucracy of port duty but then flourished immediately as she returned to the stars.

Messalina's life went on to inhabit a series of home schooling and cramped quarters. But if anything else Messalina was adaptable. She learned her boundaries, which fluctuated from CO to CO. The kinder COs, which were more frequent as Hannah was an exemplary officer, allowed much more space for Messalina to run about in, endearing her to the crew as the ship's unofficial mascot. More severe COs, like one Captain Mikhailovich, eventually refused to accept Hannah with a child in tow, forcing the single mother back to station duty. Messalina eventually came to regard all COs as a collective father figure.

The man before her seemed to smile at her without smiling, curtly offering her to take a seat, which she carefully accepted only when he settled down. Command seemed to be his nature, no awkwardness on protocol, yet never blunt and authorative beyond what she expected of a flag officer.

"I'm Rear-Admiral Hackett." the man began. He had set down what she assumed was her dossier and mission report without opening them. "I've read your report, Lieutenant. Impressive job down there."

"Thank you, sir." Messalina swore to herself; she sounded wooden as a VI.

"No, no," the Admiral chuckled. "Thank you! You've practically saved the colony single-handedly."

"I wouldn't say so, myself, Admiral." Shepard confessed, blushing uncharacteristically at the compliment. "I cannot report the implications and effects of my actions. Many others helped."

"My reports," Hackett began, before adding with stress, "by others who participated, claim that they were ready to fall back and retreat when... let me quote this verbatim...this is from a Sergeant Bates... 'this young girl in straw hat and sandals jumped in, picked a Lancer and began taking out the hidden sniper positions with single shots.' Does the Sergeant describe your actions correctly, Lieutenant?"

Messalina stiffened. "If I may offer an excuse, Admiral Hackett, sir, I was not wearing uniform because I was off duty."

Hackett's expression crumpled into a twist before bursting out laughing. "I'm not looking to reprimand you for your dress code, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir."

Hackett continued to read the report out loud. "'... which then allowed us to regroup behind the burnt out M-30. We were still huddled around with our LT looking for our mysterious Joan of Arc, when we heard explosions going off behind enemy lines.'"

"I was able to proceed through the enemy flank, Admiral," Messalina began to explain.

"You have poor language skills, Lieutenant." Hackett chuckled. "Hardened Marine NCOs just hailed you as the Maid of Orleans. I've read the reports to understand your battle progression, Lieutenant. You took out the Bataarian snipers, seven of them with seven shots, using an Assault Rifle, before picking up a Mantis off a fallen soldier. You ran from cover to cover before insanely cutting right through the thick of the enemy before you reached the forest, not forgetting to plant a couple of mines along the way and decapitating three Bataarians who were merging on your position. You then took out the tanks by overloading the mines and then immobilized the enemy by taking potshots from a secure location until the Calvary arrived. Is that about right?"

"I..." Messalina began slowly walking through his words while matching kills with her memory. Grandpa had always impressed upon her the importance of properly conveying information.

But Hackett's expression seemed impatient. "I'll take that as a yes, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir."

"The collated battle reports suggest you personally took down seventy three Bataarians, not to mention the strategic advantage of immobilizing the enemy through one of the most exemplary sniper operations in Military history."

Messalina's mind simply registered it as a factual statement.

"I'm here to investigate your commendation for the Star of Terra, Lieutenant."

Now that certainly struck her. The Star of Terra, the highest military honor to an individual the Alliance could bestow.

"How old are you, Lieutenant?"

"Twenty two this April, sir."

"Your file says your an N6 graduate of the ICT."

"Yes, sir."

Hackett collected his files and stood up. Messalina hurriedly offered a salute. This time Hackett let it hang there, almost admiring the young officer.

Without returning the salute, he continued.

"You're being immediately promoted to 1st Lieutenant. You will also be hearing from special forces command assigning you an N7 mentor and posting."

Finally he returned the salute. "You're a hero of humanity, Shepard. I'll be keeping my eye on you."


	9. Anderson

**Anderson**

- January, 2183

"Lieutenant Commander Shepard, reporting for duty, sir."

* * *

"He's a tough son of a bitch." Fleet Admiral Hayes had told her before she sent her off from the Everest.

"Sir?" Messalina set down the two cups of coffee on the Admiral's desk. Hayes was the fleet commander, and commanding officer aboard the flag ship of the Second fleet. Shepard had been the Marine Commander of the 15th Battalion, which served as the HQ Marine detachment of the flagship. But even if Shepard was not a subordinate reporting directly to the Commanding Admiral, Admiral Emily Hayes had directly been involved in Shepard's N7 training since her junior years. At first it was an odd pairing that Special Forces Command had appointed her. Rear Admirals, as Emily Hayes was back then, rarely baby sat Lieutenants. But Messalina later found out it was a combination of the camaraderie of the Second fleet, which had been closely related with all the major offensives of the First-Contact war and the Skyllian Blitz, and the glaring and undeniable significance of the Star of Terra that acted in bringing the two together.

Emily Hayes had also been a close friend of Alan Shepard and a CO of Hannah Shepard. To Emily Hayes, Messalina was like the daughter (or more likely, granddaughter, considering her age) she never had.

"You're just like your mother." Hayes sipped her coffee, which she usually prepared herself, but Messalina had a knack for making what she called 'Admiral's coffee'. "I know you don't like to hear that."

Messalina shrugged. No, she didn't. But Emily Hayes had the annoying habit of continuously contrasting the two women whom she had the pleasure of guiding along in their careers.

"I had Alpha wing sent back to Arcturus duty." Messalina leaned back. "Must bore the hell out of Hannah."

"Did she say that?" Emily smiled. "She was the best navigator I've ever had; I'm repeating myself - habit of the old and dying. Make sure you let your words sink in."

"I don't mind." Messalina looked out the window at the view of Mars. Second fleet was overseeing nearly a half of its core command flotilla in routine maintenance. It also coincided with major personnel transfers, as was Shepard's case.

"I'm sorry you couldn't return to your beloved 103rd." Hayes continued. "But the interjection to transfer you to the Normandy came from way up beyond the brass. The brass, I can handle, but orders seemed to stem directly from the Alliance high council."

"Didn't know they were concerned with a lowly marine like me." Messalina had been planning on finishing her N7 tour with the 103rd, the division she began with back on Elysium. She had been hoping to reunite with some old friends. It had seemed almost in the box and as routine and smooth a transfer as she could have hoped for. At first she thought it was her mother fooling around, pulling the ropes to have her daughter follow in her footsteps as a full fledged naval officer than a marine. Accusatory remarks between mother and daughter was one of the reasons that Emily Hayes had to stage an intervention on Messalina's transfer day.

"So, it's not your mother, young lady. Do I make myself clear?" Emily Hayes glared at Messalina, before reaching out to tussle her hair.

"Okay." Messalina rolled her eyes. "I bet Hannah tattled on me, right?"

"Drop it."

"Okay." Messalina fidgeted about. "So you were telling me about Captain Anderson."

"N7, just like you." Emily emptied her cup. "One of the best and brightest of the early N7 program."

"I know that." Messalina rolled her eyes. "He's practically holds the Marine pantheon. Don't you think I'd have heard all the legends about the man?"

"I knew him back in the day when he was turned down Spectre candidacy."

"Oh?" Messalina arched her eyebrows. Messalina, like all the other Marines of the Alliance fleet, considered David Anderson their God. He was a legend among marines. N7, Spectre candidate, Super Space Marine who then went on to command his own ship, and a legend at even that. Bigger than life, and what was more interesting was that despite all the glory the Alliance could heap on him, he always bore the stigma as the man who failed to make Spectre, dashing the hopes of humanity for who knew how long until the Council would look at humanity again.

"He's stubborn." Emily sighed. "You'll love him. He actually reminds me more of your father."

Messalina was surprised again. "You knew my Father?"

Emily nodded. "A good soldier. A bit too much of a... what's the word...Paragon, if you must. Straight forward, but kind and considerate. Your grandfather always said he was a bit too philosophical. 'Space Jesus' is what he used to call him. Very different from Hannah."

"Grandpa never talked about Father. Nor did Hannah."

"Hannah was all fire within. She burned of ambition and fury. John, on the other hand, went all Buddha on your mother. They never fought because John never got angry. It always surprised me how such a calm and thoughtful young man could enlist in the Marines. It dismayed Alan as well. Your grandfather once told me that he had raised a Naval Admiral, only to see him become a grunt."

"Wish I'd known him."

"I always supported John's decision to become a Marine. Not because I had foresight, but I just believed that he would never make a hasty decision. And I proved right. John was a great Commander. Always calm and valiant in a bullet storm. I can remember when John first introduced Hannah to me. I could see that your flaming mother had been smitten by him. Damn shame."

"Shanxi?"

Emily Hayes nodded. "General William's army. John died only a few days before Williams surrendered the garrison."

"I never knew."

"I was still with the Second fleet back then. I found John's body." Emily looked off into the distance.

Messalina wanted to feel sad. But she never knew her father and could find little sorrow beyond regret to muster. She had forgiven the Turians long ago for her grandfather. And Alliance history among the stars ever seemed to mean that sacrifice always followed progress. She was just one among many, and she had always begrudged her mother because she always seemed to fight against what fate threw at her. If only Hannah could accept the misery that had plagued their family as the Shepards were embroiled in galactic history perhaps they would have found peace with each other.

* * *

"Welcome aboard, Commander." David Anderson returned the salute and extended a hand.

"It's an honor, sir." Messalina picked up her baggage and followed Anderson's entourage on board.

"Charles Pressly, ma'am." Staff Lieutenant Charles Pressley, the navigator was nearly eight years older than Messalina, but looked older. He was a 'mustang', an enlisted man who climbed the ranks to commission, which told of volumes of his skills as a navigator. Messalina, who had first worried about his chronological seniority being in the way, soon relaxed when she noticed he kept on staring at her in awe and admiration.

"Lieutenant." Messalina shook his hand.

"I served aboard the Agincourt before my officer'c commission. I saw you on Elysium during the Skyllian Blitz. I was also with you in the Second before I transferred over to the Fifth."

Messalina nodded, understanding why the man seemed so bewildered by her.

"I've always felt indebted to the Agincourt."

Pressly laughed nervously. "What's there to thank? You single-handedly wiped out the entire Batarian ground forces. We were there just to pick up your scraps."

Anderson's cough interrupted Pressly's nervous babbling. Pressly apologized and hurried off to his station as the CO and new XO entered the Captain's quarters.

"Take a seat, Commander." Anderson hunkered down on his soft recliner.

"Thank you, sir." Anderson was a huge man. In his early fifties, he was still extremely well built and muscular, with thick arms that even a ICT in training would admire. As Emily Hayes had told her, he was actually bigger than his reputation.

"Oh, and congratulations on making N7." Anderson poured them each a glass of brandy from his drawer. Messalina picked her glass up and returned the toast.

"It's an honor, sir."

"Don't give me that stiff 'sir', thing." Anderson chuckled. "Your reputation precedes you, Shepard. Emily Hayes seemed to have ran out of paper with the glowing letter of recommendation. I also received a note from Admiral Hackett. Who's ass do I have to kiss to get such surplus of laurels?"

"Sir?"

Anderson smiled. "Just pulling your leg, child." He finished his glass. "The Normandy is something of a political band wagon, Commander. It represents the harmony and cooperation between humanity and those damn Turians."

"I heard surprisingly little about the ship before coming here, sir."

News on the Normandy was bountiful, but once you removed the meaningless clout about 'cooperation' and 'Turians' and 'new step for the Systems Alliance in the Galactic Community', there was practically nothing that was known about the ship beyond its fragmented silhouette that was handed out during a press conference.

"We've mostly served as a Liaison to the Citadel Council." Anderson explained. "Like a test bed to see if humanity could handle the more delicate matters. We've often been deployed places that the Council would not dare publicly ask the Alliance to go. Retrieving STG operatives, Spectres, Serrice Commandos, you name it. That's where you come in, Commander."

"Sir?"

"My Marine Company Commander, Lieutenant Alenko, he's a bit youngish. Less experienced to lead a ground crew on some of our more sensitive missions."

"I see, sir."

Anderson shook his head. "No, no. Kaidan Alenko is a top of the line Marine. Normally he'd be going places. But Normandy's missions often requires something more than what your average Marine Commander can do. Alenko will still be Commander of Marine Company Normandy. I just want you to assume command in certain sensitive missions that would require your attention."

"Understood, sir."

Anderson took a moment to scrutinize Shepard one more time.

"Other than that, you'll be the XO, running the day to day operations, keeping the men in line and the ship afloat. I heard this will be your first position as an XO."

"Yes, sir."

"XOs are the mother of the ship's crew. This assignment will probably prepare you down the road when you make higher positions; I remember my time when I was XO on board a dreadnought. It's a valuable experience. You get to know your crew better. Chastise them, encourage them, make them better officers. It's quite different from heading a Marine company where you're more like an older brother to a string of young and frightened men."

"Yes, Captain."

"Remember that, Commander. Knowing your crew and being buddies with them is different. Your reputation is that of a Lone wolf. One of the best operatives in the business. You work alone, because you don't trust anyone else to do the job."

"Sir?" The sudden change of tone surprised Shepard.

"I know men like you, Commander." David Anderson now glared at her. "You always try to take on the world with your bare hands. You're a stranger to help. You bear the weight of the world. Because you never trust your men enough. Well I'm here to tell you that you can forget about me giving you a good review."

"Sir?"

"You're a hell of an officer, Shepard. The whole bloody Galaxy knows that. I'm here to make sure you become a great officer. So, I'm going to spam your service records with unsatisfactory reviews until I see you truly leading men. I know you're great at what you do. You're the best. But I think you can be more. So I'm not caring whether you do your job well from now on, Shepard. I want you to make everyone else do their job well, also. Understood?"

Tough son of a bitch, Messalina thought to herself as she made her way to the officer's quarters.


	10. Interrogation

**Interrogation**

- Febuary, 2186

"Let's talk about Cerberus."

Admiral Mikhailovich sat across her in the interrogation room, leaning back, coffee in hand, eyes on the data pad. Of all the people in the Alliance navy, it had to be him leading the inquiry for Messalina's actions in the Bahak system. The operation to infiltrate the Batarian Hegemony and rescue Doctor Kenson had been a covert and Top Secret for clearance to the highest level. Well cited in the workings of intelligence operations, Messalina knew that no matter what happened here she wouldn't get scalded. Nevertheless, it was Mikhailovich.

Mikhailovich and she had went way back to her days on the Einstein. But she doubt he remembered that. The man had jumped from the Second to the Fifth when he was offered a position to command a flotilla. He then had transfered from his position in the 63rd scout flotilla to a bureaucratic position in Vancouver following Sovereign's defeat three years ago. Shepard's decision backed by Hackett had severely crippled most of the 63rd while saving the Destiny Ascension. Shepard could only imagine what the man thought of her now. Hackett, unaware of his disposition toward her, must have recommended him to the Justice as an alumna of the Fifth Fleet. She had hoped he had softened through the years, but these daily sessions had proved otherwise.

"What would you like to know?" Messalina folded her arms. She dropped the honorific 'sir' whenever she talked to him ever since their first acquaintance when she was young. It irritated him to no end.

"Let's put the records straight, Commander. You are a member of the terrorist organization known as 'Cerberus'. I would like to know how you were first approached on being recruited."

"That's a loaded question." Messalina shrugged. "I was rejuvenated earlier this year following the accident that destroyed the SSV Normandy SR-1 off Alchera-"

"Why were you there?"

"I was ordered there to investigate Geth appearances around the Omega Nebula."

"Did Cerberus request you to investigate the Omega Nebula?"

The questions became more and more off track, and too easily disprovable that Messalina had to assume that Mikhailovich only asked these questions to create suspicion that she had been in allusion with Cerberus before her prior death.

"No, I received orders from the Citadel Council as a Spectre."

"The Citadel Council did not specify you to investigate that particular region of space, am I not correct?"

"No," Messalina squinted her eyes, proceeding cautiously. "I was alerted to Geth activities from a distress signal."

"But Alchera itself is a barren world." Mikhailovich smiled. "There are no colonies there. In fact, the Amada system itself is devoid of colonies. The entire Omega Nebula is primarily up for dispute among the Terminus War Lords."

The distress signal had been an open lie, of course. On Liara's suggestion, Shepard had actually been investigating Eingana, following a suspicious Reaper trail. Eingana had been a waste dump of Eezo during the Inusannon cycle. Liara's suggestions that the Thoi'han might have been initially indoctrinated, instigating the beginning the the Inusannon harvest cycle had been what prompted Shepard to go to that system. She should have thought up a better lie to tell the Council, but the Reapers and the denial over their very existence had infuriated her too much back then. The operation had thus proceeded with only Liara, Ashley and Joker knowing what was actually going on. Garrus had left earlier, returning to C-sec briefly before dropping off the grid. Wrex, who seemed to have taken much anguish over the entire incident on Virmire, had blistered with resolve and hurried back to Tuchanka. Tali, of course, returned to her flotilla to complete her pilgrimage. The remaining four of them had gathered in Liara's office, talking about how to proceed. Ashley was the most difficult to convince, but eventually the hard-core marine decided to go along with their plan on duping both the Council and the Alliance on the hunt for Reaper trails. Ashley would bolster Shepard's report to the Alliance that the Council ordered them so, while Liara would back Shepard's report to the Council that Alliance Top Secret intelligence provided them Geth sightings in the area. And all three women worked hard to appease Joker's ego so he could fly them where they wanted. The first few months showed little success, and they had barely begun picking up momentum when Liara suggested that they follow the Eezo trail, based upon the theory that ships as heavy as Sovereign would require massive amounts of Eezo. Ancient Eezo mining activities and surplus Eezo untouched by recent civilizations became the target. Which eventually led them to Eingana, the battleground between the Inusannon and the Thoi'han. Looking back, Messalina wondered if the Collectors had happened upon them when they too had been there to collect Eezo from Eingana.

Unable to convey this enormous double crossing to avoid complicating the matters worse, Messalina simply shrugged. "My bad."

Mikhailovich glared at her, but Messalina refused to budge.

"You report that Cerberus 'rebuilt' you during 2184 and 2185." Mikhailovich offered to punctuate his sarcasm.

"Yes."

"The so-called 'Lazarus project', as you claim, rebuilt you from your burnt out body recovered from the surface of Alchera. Alliance intelligence has not been able to verify the existence of this 'Lazarus project'."

"So much for Alliance intelligence." Messalina yawned.

"Let me tell you what I think happened, Commander." Mikhailovich leaned forward. "You were in contact with Cerberus following the Council's disapproval of your wishes to go to war with the Terminus system. You offered to defect to Cerberus by faking your death, crashing your ship and killing your crew. After which you actively participated in Cerberus funded terrorism, culminating with you rising in their hierarchy and attaining a warship of your own, which you sacrilegiously named 'Normandy'."

Messalina allowed him to finish. "Why would I do that, Mikhailovich?"

"To avenge your father and push your pro-human Terra Firma ideals by destroying what you conceive as your racial enemies!" Mikhailovich was obviously enjoying his monologue, as he ended it by pounding a fist on the table, rattling the coffee mug.

"Does your local writing group know that you're a lonely fifty year old man or do they still think you're a cheerleader when you submit your stories?"

"Do you deny commanding a Cerberus ship, with a Cerberus crew who actively followed your orders?"

"I'm a Spectre." Messalina avoided the question.

"Did the Citadel condone your actions in the Terminus system?"

"I don't see THEM pressing charges." Messalina shrugged, avoiding the obvious trap.

"Lieutenant Williams reported that you actually admitted to joining Cerberus when she met you on Horizon."

"My word against hers." Messalina replied, though she was miffed at Ashley when she recalled that encounter. Of all the people she had expected Ashley to have better understood her plight back then. But like Mikhailovich, the lukewarm pro-human enthusiasts had always shied away from totally going Terra Firma when career was on the line. Besides, back then with Mordin worrying about whether his drone repellent would function properly, and keeping Garrus from lunging at Ashley, Shepard could barely explain the situation properly. Where was Ashley? Shepard's months in 'protective custody', stripped of her rank, while not uncomfortable, had effectively cut her off from everyone, including Liara. James Vega, though friendly and supportive, was not the most resourceful person when it came to slyly acquiring information second-hand. He had regularly fetched her sanctioned news reports and extranet-time, but when Messalina nearly got him into trouble while trying to hack the extranet, even he became wary.

"You're a dangerous person, Shepard. You're a threat to humanity." Mikhailovich, concluded as he could see that his allotted time with her was at a close. "You think you've changed, saving the Council, and placing a human representative there. But, there will come a time when you reflect on your actions and know that you've led your life deluding yourself of what you've accomplished for yourself and for those around you."

"I enjoy these talks we have." Messalina got up first, collecting her jacket. She took a sip of his coffee, wincing before putting it down. "Too bitter. I like mine with some sugar."


	11. Mothers and Daughters

**Mothers and Daughters**

- June, 2183

Due to a clerical error the Dreadnought Kilimanjaro and some other ships of the core flotilla of the Second fleet couldn't find port at Arcturus and had to be diverted to Terra Nova X57. Batarian activity was high and Admiral Namiki, commander of the core flotilla, ordered one third of the active ships in the flotilla, designated group Bravo, to patrol the systems perimeter and the Mass Relay. The Kilimanjaro, which had been chronologically the most recent to have completed its prior routine maintenance, thus waited at the door steps of the Mass Relay, supported by the Cruiser Nairobi and the Carrier Einstein.

Personnel was maintained at forty percent, with thirty off on shore leave and another thirty assisting logistics and resupply at X57. Hence, the ship was almost quiet in its three shift rotation of the remaining crew when Captain Shepard held command. The fifty something single mother had now begun to replace her flaming red hair with strands of grey, which she kept tied in a hairnet. Despite the lack of crew, the men who served with her knew that she expected nothing less than perfection even on routine patrol duty. While the CO of the ship may have changed from time to time, Hannah Shepard, a veteran of the second fleet, commanded fierce loyalty among the crew wherever she transferred. She was the hidden soul of the second fleet, with commanders of other vessels often clamoring to her call wherever she went. It was probably no coincidence that the Einstein and Nairobi were waiting around in Kilimanjaro's shadow. Despite having a background as a military scientist, she had absorbed the experience of all branches of the naval uniform. Furthermore, with her daughter being a living legend among the marines, the grunts became her adopted children as well. A few COs who couldn't see the value of an omnipotent XO would often come to clash with her, but they usually didn't last long, either shattering themselves upon her singular will of force, or falling in line with everyone else who came to know her.

PFC Dobbs, head held high, as he knew he should be before the XO, strode forward to alert her of a private communications that had just arrived.

"I'm on duty Dobbs." Hannah reminded him. "Respond to whomever sent it that I will review their message in 0400 hours."

This would usually have sunk in, but the identity of the caller dwarfed all others in significance that Dobbs remained persistent.

"It's Commander Shepard of the Normandy, ma'am."

"Oh, hi." Hannah Shepard was in her private quarters in five minutes; the obsidian mind now nervous as she settled down into her seat, wondering what her estranged daughter had called her about, wondering how long they would be able to talk this time. But despite her eagerness to talk to Messalina she found herself saying, "I don't have time for personal calls right now. I'm on duty."

There are times when even audio transmissions can convey the drop in temperature of an environment. Perhaps it was the brief and unmistakable pause that followed, or the miffed tone of her daughter, but despite her cordial reply Hannah could sense that Messalina would rather terminate the communication than continue.

"I know what that's like." Messalina offered, mild mannered. But Hannah knew the tone. It had always been like that when she returned from her long away missions. Other kids had mothers who apologized for picking them up a few minutes late. Messalina had to wait months. Hannah could never figure out when it was her daughter had closed up from her. Messalina had already sealed herself emotionally from her mother when Alan Shepard died, though that event had definitely put the nail in the coffin. It had been a gradual transition.

Hannah had tried to be a good mother earlier in Messalina's life. She had tried to adopt to the life on the station. Reading bed time stories when she could. She had passed on a promising position and a potential promotion to stay with her daughter in the absence of John Shepard. Hannah confessed that it had only lasted eight months before the regret of being side tracked in her career had began to gnaw at her.

Alan had been supportive of Hannah, never one to hold her back. Sometimes Hannah thought Alan loved her more than he did his own son. Once she had overheard Alan speaking to John how he wished that Hannah was his own daughter. John had never expressed being upset about that, rather joked to Hannah that it would have been incestual to continue seeing each other. John was infuriating like that. And somehow, Messalina retained her father's stoic attitude in most instances, but lost his humor.

"Seeing anyone?" Hannah couldn't contain herself.

The girl had grown up without friends her age. Even in her raging years as a teenager, Messalina was quiet and reserved, venting her frustration through the catharsis of the gun range. When Hannah vocalized her concern for Messalina's gun penchant, the girl promptly began a life long love affair with her sniper rifle. It spoke volumes that Messalina had channeled her teenage frustration into becoming one of the best snipers in the fleet by the time she actually enlisted.

Messalina's silence followed. Which was curious, as usually the girl would calmly deny any relationship outright and immediately. Hannah knew immediately that Messalina was indeed seeing someone, and that someone was not a person whom she could easily tell her mother.

"Honey?" Hannah cautiously prodded.

"Do you remember Lieutenant Zabaleta from the Einstein?" Messalina asked abruptly.

The name immediately sprung to mind, despite being an acquaintance of more than a lifetime ago.

"Ernesto? Have you heard from him?" Surely she's not seeing Ernesto Zabaleta! Hannah was suddenly worried. "He was one of the marines who guarded the CIC. We shared a watch. I lost track of him after... there was an incident."

Hannah couldn't outright ask Messalina if she was seeing the man. They barely shared personal inquiries, and to suddenly assume that Messalina was seeing a damaged man thirty years her senior would surely lead this rare personal call into an early grave. She had to eke it out of her.

"You remember the bataarian raid on Mindoir in 2170?" Hannah continued cautiously, adding with a slight mix of dismay, "you were in HIGH SCHOOL."

That failed to elicit a response.

"The Einstein's task group responded to a mayday. The bataarians were still pulling out when the marines hit groundside. Zabaleta was one of the first down." Please don't romantically involved with him, she prayed. "He was never quite the same after."

"Was that why he left the service?"

"Why are you asking me about Ernesto?" Hannah couldn't contain herself.

"For that to have affected him so deeply, he must have been a very sensitive man."

Oh, my god. Hannah almost broke down in tears. She was fond of Ernesto. She had supported him when he needed to talk. Even when he began to drown in his cups, she had lent a hand trying to pull him back. But to imagine her baby girl in the arms of the old alcoholic discharged marine was too much. Guilt pummeled down on her. Guilt that she had kept in check. She had to support Alan and Messalina, she told herself. She wanted to be a good mother, but she had responsibilities.

"Honey, what is it? Why are you asking about Ernesto? Are you seeing him?"

That finally got a reaction.

"He approached me on the Citadel." Messalina told her dryly.

"Approached you? How?" Hannah's heart crumpled like a sheet of thin aluminum foil.

"He asked me for money." Messalina's voice remained unreadable.

"You gave him some money? Did he ask for anything else?" Hannah continued, worried.

"He asked me to remind him to you."

Hannah quickly jogged her memory of Zabaleta. She had always been kind to him. She never thought he would lose all common sense to accost her daughter.

"Tell him to go to the Veteran's affair's office. He needs help, Messalina."

"Okay." Messalina offered no reply, other than that. Hannah had the feeling that her daughter was tentatively waiting for her to terminate the call.

"I... I should go."

"Bye."

The communication went silent, replaced by the crackle of residual white noise. It was so like Messalina to leave Hannah hanging to dry. She wondered if Messalina's stoic coldness held a far deeper resentment to her than she had imagined. Hannah found that she her hand had been trembling the entire time. She closed a fist over her trembling hand, breathing deeply before getting up.

* * *

It was a few weeks after that the two women finally met face to face.

Usually her resourceful daughter would have found every means to avoid her mother. But it had taken a Geth assault on the Citadel to finally allow mother and daughter to meet for the first time in five years. The second fleet had been called into assist security of the Citadel, which was a rare honor, following the battle, and Admiral Namiki had practically shoved Hannah off the ship for a long delayed shore leave to see her daughter and attend the ceremony. Due to her injuries, Messalina's ceremony had been delayed for a couple of weeks, and Hannah was able to successfully corner her daughter in Huerta Memorial Hospital on the Citadel.

She brought flowers.

A salarian doctor and an Alliance medical officer seemed to be conversing about Messalina, and Hannah cautiously approached them.

"Excuse me, Doctors."

The grey haired medical officer turned to address her immediately, recognizing her she offered Hannah a bright smile. "Captain Shepard."

"Yes, Doctor."

"I'm Doctor Chakwas, of the Normandy." they shook hands. Hannah was relieved. She had been worried whether she would be shooed away like a tourist. Messalina, who had already become a legend among the marines during her short career, had within a few weeks become known as the 'Savior of the Citadel', with every Citadel government tripping over each other to award her valor.

"How is she, Doctor?"

"The Commander is recovering rapidly." Chakwas assured her. "You can go in and see her right now."

"Does she talk about me?"

Chakwas replied in uncomfortable silence. Hannah proceeded cautiously to the VIP room. There was laughter coming from within. Messalina's low key chuckle mixed with a more lilted tone of another female. Hannah found her daughter sitting upright in bed, her left arm in a sling and her bed sheet littered with candy wrappers. Beside her an Asari was sitting on the bed, reading news clips off a datapad, occasionally unwrapping a piece of candy for Messalina.

The Messalina and the Asari, first not noticing Hannah's entrance, turned to her as Hannah offered a polite cough.

"May I help you?" the Asari asked, as Messalina remained silent: not surprised, but simply regarding Hannah. There was no spite in her daughter's eyes, but neither was there any fondness.

The Asari was beautiful, emanating a Siren's lure which made Hannah always uncomfortable around Asari. She also seemed relatively young, probably still a maiden, but that estimate simply gave her a breadth of three centuries of error.

"That's my mom, Liara." Messalina finally explained. Hannah could almost read her thoughts; Messalina probably only offered the explanation finally after considering that Hannah had no un-awkward reply to the situation.

The relationship was obvious. The proximity between the two, the held hands, the laughter, all pointed to one thing. The Asari was closer to Messalina than Hannah was.

"Hello," Hannah controlled her emotions as she greeted the Asari Liara, extending a handshake. Liara gracefully crossed the distance to offer a warm hug.

"Uh, she doesn't like that... hugging." Messalina interjected dryly, spite finally unable to contain itself.

But Liara simply turned to Messalina with an admonishing look. "She's, your, mother."

Liara led Hannah to the seat beside the bed, preparing to leave the two women alone.

"Don't go, Liara."

Liara understood and took a chair at the other side of the bed.

"It's so nice to meet you, Mrs Shepard." Liara smiled and introduce herself. "Liara T'Soni. I've been helping your daughter aboard the Normandy for a couple of weeks, now."

Hannah, recovering from seeing her daughter and understanding she was now in a relationship with the alien, recovered her composure.

"Nice to meet you, Liara."

"We're seeing each other, mom." Messalina stated.

"I can see that." Hannah replied. So, her daughter was not seeing an alcoholic Veteran but an alien hermaphrodite that resembled a woman. At best, her daughter preferred the same sex, at worst xenophilic. Messalina, not missing a single detail, scowled.

"And?"

"I'm.. happy for you." Hannah smiled a frigid one. Despite her longing to be on good terms with her daughter, all their encounters eventually deteriorated into a mess within five minutes. "Can you please leave us for a moment, Liara?"

"Don't go, Liara." Messalina interrupted, immediately. But the Asari had more common sense and promptly left after planting a quick kiss on Messalina's cheek.

"Be a good girl." Liara said jokingly before the doors closed behind her.

The two women stared out at the Presidium. Huerta memorial boasted the best locale of any medical facility on the Citadel. It was the first human hospital allowed on the Presidum, named after the North American President Christopher Huerta, it primarily serviced only human ambassadors and high ranking delegates of the Alliance. Messalina, of course, was offered it's best room.

"So..." Hannah had to start somewhere, following thirty seconds of watching skycars pass by. "an Asari."

Messalina stressed her companion's name. "Liara."

"Who is an Asari." Hannah persisted.

"I can see that." Messalina retorted evenly.

"Why can't you just find some nice human officer?" Hannah broke down.

"Like Lieutenant Zabaleta?" Messalina offered her mother a cruel smile. Hannah had wished her silly concern had been buried.

"There was this boy, you once wrote of, Kaidan." Hannah jogged her memory.

"Kaidan's dead." Messalina replied with the softness of a mass accelerator. "Besides, he was just a friend. You of all people expecting me to settle down... that's ironic."

"Just let it out in the open, Val." Hannah charged, irritably, picking up the childhood name.

"I dropped the Valeria years ago, mom, if you hadn't noticed." Messalina glared at her mother.

"It was a name your parents gave you, Valeria Messalina."

"I'd like to think you gave me Valeria and Father gave me Messalina." came the vengeful reply.

Hostilities were in the open, now, unmistakable and bristling like an erupted tech grenade.

"So... I'm glad you're finally honest with me, at least." Hannah replied coldly.

"Valeria Messalina," her daughter laughed. "I should have suspected I was an unwanted child when you named me after a Roman whore."

"She was a strong willed and much maligned woman. Heroes are boring." Hannah scoffed. "Would you prefer I call you.. what? Jane?"

"You're so juvenile, mom." Messalina rolled her eyes. "Acting so tough, every time. You know what Ernesto called you? 'Renegade Hannah'. He said you tried to break his drinking habit by tossing him against the bulkhead and shouting at him."

"Shock therapy." Hannah replied coldly. "I have no use for whiners. So that's why you were prying into Zabaleta."

"No." Messalina droned, irritated. "he came to me for money, like a beggar. I think you're the one who broke him, not Mindoir. I'd never leave my crew to the wind like that, while I'm off chasing starships to advance my career."

"Let's just have it all out then!" Hannah nearly screamed. "I was doing what was responsible, you ungrateful petulant child. 'Mommy was never there. Mommy's always gone.' Where do you think a single mother can support her family like I did? Did you ever think of that?"

"Don't delude yourself, Hannah. I DON'T regret you not being in my life. I cherish that you weren't in my life!"

"You're the one deluding yourself, Valery Messalina Shepard. You're the one who became a marine to spite me; you're the one who joined ICT against my will. You know very well what your father's death meant to me."

"I hardly noticed what Father's death meant to you." Messalina sneered.

The doors opened suddenly, as Liara entered with a cup of coffee in each hand. Nonchalantly ignoring that the two women were in each other's faces, she promptly handed each of them a mug and sat down purposefully between them.

"Catching up on things?" she smiled innocently.

The two women were too busy simmering down to reply, both staring down at their mug.

"My mother passed away recently." Liara told Hannah. "We never got on very well. She always expected a lot from me. She was disappointed when I began studying archaeology. She had wanted me to study law or theology. I think she had been wanting to groom me to follow her foot steps in Asari politics."

Liara eyed the two women carefully before settling back in her chair.

"We had grown estranged over the years. We haven't spoken to each other in nearly twenty years. My father had left before I was born and Benezia never talked about her much."

The similarities in how Messalina must have seen herself in the Asari was strikingly uncomfortable.

"Gratefully, I found my passion in life among the ruins of long forgotten civilizations." Liara smiled, unwrapping a piece of hard mint and unceremoniously plopping it in Messalina's mouth. "History has a force of its own. We historians try to discern our own narrative voice from the occurrences in time, but the momentum remains undeniably. It forces civilizations to grow toward certain traits, despite the individual rationale of its constituents. We tend to think we are reasonable beings of intellect, but ever our motivations are deeply rooted in what was past."

A distant hum of a passing skycar harmonized with the dulcet voice of the Asari to Hannah's ears.

"When I last saw Benezia she had changed drastically. She was only a shell of what she was, and deep inside she seemed riddled with some malevolent force I could not face."

Liara reached out and held Messalina's hand. "It was Shepard who told me it was not who Benezia really was. Strange how a stranger can see beyond the shadows that clouded my mind. I had somehow integrated the indoctrinated mind of Benezia with the resentment I held to her growing up. Shepard told me that my mother loved me, and I should see beyond the veil of her final hours. She convinced Benezia, supported her will to resurface again."

Liara reached out and held Hannah's hand as well. "I think that only one who had longed for her mother could truly see the mother inside Benezia."

It was brief, the odd scaly skin, smooth yet alien which brushed Hannah's hand. But as the Asari say, Hannah momentarily 'embraced eternity'.

"I'm grateful to your daughter for allowing me one last peace with Benezia." Liara joined to two women's hands together as she got up and left again.


	12. Lord of Tuchanka

**Lord of Tuchanka**

To Liara's dismay, Hannah and Messalina simply shook each other's hands before letting go. When Hannah left, Messalina threw Liara a scathing look.

"Oh, that's so charming, Liara." She made a face before tossing the flowers at the Asari. Liara settled the flowers in to a vase as if nothing had happened.

"Well, I'm glad I was able to smoothen things a bit." Liara petted the sunflowers down until they spread out evenly around the brim.

"Sunflowers," Messalina scoffed. "That's her sole memory of my likes and dislikes."

"They're pretty." Liara shrugged as she took a seat on the bed again, pushing Shepard a bit to make room. She picked up Hannah's coffee and tasted it a bit before wincing and letting it down. "An acquired taste?"

"Like pretty much everything in life." Messalina poured the contents of Hannah's mug into her own.

"I think Doctor Chakwas told me that you drank too much of that…. Tea."

"Doctor Chakwas," Messalina arched her eyebrows. "keeps brandy in her drawers. She's not the person to tell me what I should or should not take."

"Says the Spectre who has mother issues."

"As if you don't."

Liara ignored her. There was something she wanted to talk about, and she hoped that she had humored Messalina enough for the bad news.

"Garrus dropped by an hour ago."

"Oh?" Messalina was surprised. "Why didn't he come in?"

Liara was hesitant, turning away from Shepard as she looked out at the Presidium.

"He's gone, hasn't he?"

- May, 2183

Vakarian's visor had frozen in place, giving out a soft glow to tell its master that the target was at point blank range with no winds or significant humidity to compensate for. If the visor had a soul it would have wondered why the master did not satisfy its blood lust. But the master's beat slowed in synchrony with the MSV Fedele's low thrumming engines, and Garrus Vakarian's pupils tightened in relaxation.

"The authorities will come and pick you up." Vakarian sighed.

"Wuss." Wrex coughed. Messalina shot Wrex a scathing glare that made the quadricentennial eight hundred pound Krogan seem to fidget.

But Doctor Saleon/Heart seemed to have a different idea, flashing out a pistol from his holster with a hiss. Garrus stood by watching, with folded arms as Saleon fired a few rounds, missing him entirely. Messalina knew that Garrus was upset. He was asking her bluntly, what the point was. Messalina sighed and put a round between Saleon's eyes.

"Happy?" Garrus asked before walking out of the room.

"I'm not." Wrex grumbled as he poked the Doctor with his foot before unloading a spray of pellets into his chest. "Okay, I'm good."

Messalina and Wrex entered the now empty hallways of the Fedele, which reeked of decomposing organic body parts. Blood spatters were everywhere and some tissue residue eventually clung maliciously to her boots.

"Turians." Wrex scoffed. "I think they're born with an exoskeleton up their ass."

Garrus had already stalked out the port to the Normandy. Messalina folded her beloved Mantis up and hitched it back onto her back.

"He's sorting things out, Wrex."

"I have four hundred years' worth of personal problems, Shepard." Wrex complained. "You don't see me whining about it."

"That's because you're a big boy", she joked.

"You'd think he'd have gotten over that stupid little daddy issue by now." Wrex callously blew open a locker, and shuffled through the contents, tossing equipment at Messalina to sort out. Messalina began melting them into omnigel before packaging them up for later use.

"Maybe he should take a page out of your book and just go kill the old man." Messalina scowled in sarcasm.

Wrex seemed to be considering it for a minute. "Good Idea. I'll pass that along."

Wrex moved on to another locker, aiming to burst it open. Messalina held him back and patiently hacked the lock.

"You're trigger happy, Wrex."

"Shepard," Wrex grumbled. "When you love your gun, you want it to sing."

Messalina began to sort through the various stocks of weapon mods; Wrex idly leaned on the locker, toying with his shotgun.

"The problem with Vakarian is that he takes himself too seriously." Wrex began twirling his shotgun. "He thinks that tracking down this quack will make a difference in this universe. That maybe his old man will think better of him because he pulled it off. Next thing you'll know he'll be trying to single handedly take down every pirate in the Terminus system."

"Don't be preposterous." Messalina switched off her omnitool as she got up.

"You're encouraging him."

"No I'm not." She argued. "I tried to show him that there are due processes at work in the universe."

"And then you did a head shot."

"Couldn't have Saleon shoot Garrus." Messalina shrugged.

"Garrus needs to get shot once in a while. In the face! Ha!" Wrex laughed heartily. "Maybe then he'd understand why it's stupid to chase every criminal you get your claws on."

- July, 2185

Wrex remained on his throne as he leered down at Garrus.

"I like how you did your face, Vakarian."

Despite his chambers being entirely built of rubble, the towering Krogan had managed to arraign it so as to make it the most impressive throne of rubble she had ever seen. Hulking Krogans, larger than the usual small brew that hired out for money off world, vigilantly stood watch over Wrex's person, jealously guarding her friend as if she would steal him away from them. It was a fascinating turn of events. Wrex had remained on the Citadel to receive honors for their part in the battle with Sovereign, but had been frustrated as everyone seemed to ignore him. The Councilors had generally regarded him as a mercenary hired-hand that Shepard used for extra muscle. No one seemed interested in Virmire or what Wrex had sacrificed to have that victory. After an angry brawl that had trashed poor Chora's den one final time, effectively shutting down the place, Wrex had disappeared.

Now, here he was, imposing, confident and at home. Shepard had wondered if he would still see her as a friend. Her attempts to contact him had ended poorly, with him apologizing that he had matters more urgent than hunting Geth at hand. Gratefully, Wrex had jumped off his throne immediately embracing her when she made her appearance, but made point to return to his high seat.

"Well I'm glad it didn't make me as ugly as you." Garrus replied without missing a beat.

"No point in asking Shepard's opinion since she prefers women." Wrex laughed. "So, what brings you to my neck of the woods? I don't think you came to see me."

The last note ended in an accusatory note, which Messalina felt obliged to explain, but Grunt stepped forward to present himself.

"I have a Krogan on my crew. He has some kind of sickness and needs medical attention."

Wrex, amused, immediately turned to peer at Grunt. He sniffed the air around Grunt, letting out a faint chuckle.

"Where are you from, Whelp?" Wrex obviously seemed a bit miffed at Shepard. Messalina could understand that Grunt would obviously seem like his replacement. But Wrex was, what would in human terms, be considered a Prince of the Krogans. Questioning Grunt of his lineage meant that Wrex saw Grunt as much inferior in heritage. Grunt, never one to back down, retorted proudly.

"I was tank bred by Warlord Okeer. My line distilled from Kredak, Moro, Shiagur. I am pure Krogan. You should be in awe."

But Wrex was sly if nothing else. Messalina had only once seen him blow the gasket, and that was on Virmire with the cure for the genophage almost palpable. A reprobate youngster was no match for him.

Wrex jumped off his seat and walked around Grunt, studying him.

"Okeer," Wrex juggled the name in his memory. "is a very old name. A hated name."

"He is dead."

"Of course," Wrex smiled viciously. "You're with Shepard. How can he be alive?"

Messalina swept the wry remark aside. "What's wrong with him?"

"There's nothing wrong." Wrex returned to his seat. "He's coming of age."

"Adolescence?" Garrus sighed. "Can't we just take him to Omega and buy him a few drinks?"

"You should take Garrus and buy HIM a few drinks." Wrex guffawed.

Garrus chaperoned Grunt aside as Messalina took a moment to talk to Wrex. Wrex continued to snicker at Garrus as he walked away. Garrus had seemed fueled by some weird sense of duty toward Grunt to make him see his path. Perhaps it was the C-sec in him working out again. She had seen him like this whenever he had encountered a lost soul. Back on the Citadel, when they were tracking Kolyat, Garrus had been more than pleased to help Thane out.

"You'd think I'd be the one with the over bloated sense of inheritance." Wrex seemed to have read her thoughts.

"Men," Messalina sighed. "Always keeping with some false sense that their father owes them something to hand down."

"Try rebuilding a civilization, Shepard." Wrex grunted. "You'll see its benefits."

"Really? And your women agree with your little set up here as well?"

"They were the first ones who suggested it." Wrex shrugged.

"That doesn't mean what they're sacrificing is fair."

Wrex coughed. "Who said anything about fair? Fairness doesn't come into play here, Shepard. What happened on Tuchanka is not a picture of fairness. It's what's necessary for the survival of our race. And females and males both have their roles to play out. I'd be the first one to admit it is an arbitrary role, but you can't force the whole Krogan race to suddenly divorce with tradition over night."

Messalina sat down at the foot of Wrex's throne, tired and frustrated. Garrus, Thane, and the entire unfulfilled fathers of Tuchanka bristled with men trying to uplift their children, and children in revolt to their fathers; a child he refused his father's method of justice, a father who wished to bequeath his son his sense of honor, and a race that failed to procreate. Messalina felt surgically removed from the cycle of life, disconnected at a bleeding stump from the sense of procreation and legacy.

Wrex, awkward at having Shepard at his feet, crawled down to sit beside her on the open rubble.

"Still sticking out for your crew like they're your family, Shepard?" Wrex tossed a rock at a stray pyjak; Missed.

The troupe that she had been gathering, Thane, Jack, Mordin, Grunt, all seemed more distant and difficult to approach than her mild mannered crew scattered among the Galaxy. Liara's frigidness, Garrus keeping her at arm's length, and the ugly encounter with Ash on Horizon made her feel more alone than when she suffocated off the skies of Alchera.

"I missed you Wrex."

Wrex chuckled. "Sorry, Princess. I have too many females waiting for me. Get in line."

"When I woke up from death… it was confusing."

"Because you woke up from death, Shepard. That CAN be confusing."

"Learning that everyone was gone, and time had flown by, leaving me behind in ashes."

Wrex crumpled his brow, almost wanting to say something, refraining.

"I had a lot of children, Shepard." Wrex threw a rock, hitting a pyjak this time. "Fifteen of them. All dead. Stillborn and crippled in the womb. This barren rock, the air we breathe, it withers us away, leaves our females like a desert. Still Krogans flock to Tuchanka like a cursed pilgrimage. We return to our deserts hoping that maybe we'll get lucky, have a child. Sovereign called life an accident. I'm here to tell him that it isn't."

Messalina drew circles in the sand that gathered at her feet.

"I don't begrudge you for Virmire, Shepard." Wrex sniffed. "I don't think you begrudge me because I can't join you now. We all make choices, live with them, plow through the galaxy with our will. You know what to do." Wrex got up, raising a cloud of dust. "You may think that you were rebuilt, but to me you were never dead. You don't need a new purpose, just pick up where you left off. Your crew will follow you."

"How can you tell?" Messalina got up, slightly less tired.

"I predicted Garrus would have his face blasted off, didn't I?" Wrex laughed.


	13. Jesse

**Jesse**

- September, 2185

"This one time I was double crossed by a Spectre looking into the Shadow Broker's funding of Binary Helix on Noveria. Long story short, turns out the Spectre was in pay of the Shadow Broker, fishing out a local investigator and had her eliminated. Turned on the rest of us, trying to cover up his tracks. Took out five of my guys and tried to shoot me in the back. Ran an ice pick through his eyes for that. Set him loose to find his way back to his beloved Shadow Broker. Good times."

Messalina watched in morbid fascination as Zaeed compacted another piece of Eezo residue and dumped it out into space.

"Some day, one of these buggers might crash into your windshield. That's karma." Zaeed lit a cigar, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent. The fire alarms in Zaeed's room had been disabled. Messalina remembered EDI complaining about it in the elevator. Despite being an omnipotent AI that nagged her wherever she was on the ship, EDI was helpless to repair the fire alarm if someone physically removed the smoke sensors with a twelve inch serrated blade. "All this havoc I've caused in the Galaxy... well let's just say that someday it'll come to bite me in the back. I know it. And when it does..."

Zaeed hefted his rifle. "Jessie will be waiting."

"Don't you get tired of all that senseless violence, Zaeed?" Messalina finally found her voice, that seemed to have ran off and hidden in a dark place where Zaeed could find her.

Zaeed laughed heartily. He liked Shepard, which worried Shepard more than he knew. He enjoyed being on the Normandy, it had been a change from what Messalina had "cutely" termed senseless violence. There were often too many people who criticized his killing, but few who criticized him having had a head count as high as Shepard. Besides, he had lost too many men in his life, and Messalina here was tightly clinging on to a dozen whom she seemed so desperate to protect. It was adorable.

"Life is senseless, baby." Zaeed carefully put the damaged Lancer rifle down. "You're contradicting yourself when you think that life has some goddamn meaning. It's all a big jumbled mess, anyway."

"You seem pretty happy now." Zaeed had changed significantly since their little trip. Zaeed had laughed heartily as he watched Vido burn in anguish. Since then Zaeed laughed more, hung out with other people more and even started decorating his cabin. It was jarring.

"I'm fitting in nicely. Better crew than any I've worked with before." Zaeed counted off through his head. "Like the bald girl. Subject Zero? Really messed up bitch. We could have used someone like her back when. And the hatchling Krogan. I've killed a few Krogan in my time, but he's one of the strongest I've seen yet. I could use a team like that. Say, when this is over, maybe I'll borrow the two of them off you."

The more Zaeed talked, the more horrible ideas started popping into her head. A team consisting of Jack, Zaeed and Grunt would probably either kill everyone in the Galaxy until they started picking off each other. Messalina had been sick for a few days after the incident at the Eldfell-Ashland Energy refinery. Chakwas had told her it wasn't because of the fumes.

"I'd set up a nice operation." Zaeed began taking Jesse apart again, his unending quest to make his lucky weapon function one last time. "Maybe I think I'd need that Quarian chick as well. She'd be useful. Or the tin man. You can't seem to find a good technical expert who's also friggin blood-thirsty these days. I won't be needing a sharpshooter, so you and chicken legs can take a breather. But with the biotic girl, the Krogan and me, I'd bet we'd be able to run through a standard Stanford type station in twenty four hours flat. Forty eight hours to crash the thing into a planet. Heh."

Zaeed looked down the barrel of Jesse before pulling out a vein of rusted metal. It looked like a branch, but crumbled to red dust between his fingers.

"They don't make 'em like they used to." Zaeed sighed. "Now they come with omni blades attached like bayonets. Never can compare a good old steel blade to an omni tool. It's a pity that we're becoming so much more reliant on contraptions that end up stuttering when an angry Krogan is charging your way. Nearly tore me apart….. Never had much use for those things since. You begin to rely on things like that, you'll end up like those Quarians. Trapped in their suits."

Zaeed was talkative. But with all his talk he was persistent in skating only on the surface, never opening up. Would she be able to trust Zaeed Massani with her life? There were some depths to which you never explored with some individuals. She left Zaeed as he put down Jesse again, frustrated but patiently.

"I know what you're trying to do, Shepard." Zaeed tapped his cigar, letting the ashed drift to the floor. "My first mission with Jesse, I carved right through a Turian brigade. It was like magic. I couldn't believe the response this gun was giving me. I felt invincible, like magic. Sure, I had guns before Jesse. But Jesse opened my eyes to a new world of might."

"I'm not sure you-" Messalina interrupted, frustrated, but was cut off immediately.

"Next mission, not so good. I had gathered a team to drop in blind in the middle of the Krogan DMZ. We were looting an old Krogan fortress fabled to hold the riches of some old Krogan warlord. Things didn't go as planned. The maps sputtered and died from the caustic sand. Thresher maw took care of the fire support team. Then every Krogan in the vicinity started homing in on us. Barely got out of that one alone. Thanks to Jesse. But it was a total flop, never the less."

Messalina waited patiently this time, toying around with the Turian cruiser model on Zaeed's counter.

"Funny thing is, Shepard, I had planned the second one so carefully. Wanting it to succeed. I wasn't much of a fighter in my youth. Got through most battles by the skin of my teeth. My first battle taking Jesse in had been a big success, and I was trying to duplicate that success."

Zaeed finally finished his cigar and tossed it into the refuge. Opening the small airlock, the cigar butt shot out of the ship like a small leaf wrapped torpedo.

"The universe is a senseless place, Shepard. You can't really prepare yourself for what's coming. I see everything on these surveillance monitors. I see you checking up on the crew, talking to them, trying to make them stick with you like your famous crew that took down Saren. But that's bullshit. You can't talk your crew into loving you. You think that was the secret to your success with Saren, but where are all your former teammates? There's only chicken legs and astro girl, and they're not exactly the cheerful bunch with you, now, are they?"

Messalina stared at Zaeed balefully.

"I already got my money's worth following you into this mess." Zaeed flashed a rare smile, it seemed to tear at his face, his zygomatic muscles in spasms from disuse. He quit trying to smile. "Well, you know what I'm saying. You can throw a million platitudes my way, but killing Vido was what made my day. I'll follow you to hell and back, now. Maybe you should stop worrying about these kiddies and let them do their job. You've done enough for them already. And you ain't their mother."

Kelly Chambers knocked at the glass, scattering the Thessian sunfish. Messalina took meticulous care of the fish tank, and the hamster, but Kelly felt obliged to check in once in a while. The Commander's schedule was hellish to put it mildly. Despite Miranda's micromanaging, Shepard still had to plan every facet of every operation. Miranda, as Shepard put it, chickened out when it came to the larger decisions. Kelly knew it was the Illusive Man's orders to place every major decision on Shepard, wanting to get his money's worth out of ditching the clone project. Miranda paced about, briefing Shepard on the gains, which were few, following the Zorya mission.

"I hope Zaeed feels satisfied that we've destroyed an entire facility run by the de facto head of the Blue Suns." Miranda complained. "This will not bode well for Cerberus. We have outsourced them from time to time running operations in the Terminus systems. You'll have to ask Zaeed to vouch for us when the time comes. And I hope his word is enough."

Shepard had sprawled on the bed, tired, exhausted.

"Do you think we can trust Zaeed, Kelly?" Messalina managed to groan. That had been their primary objective: Keeping Zaeed in full combat readiness. It seemed wasteful to the lengths Cerberus would go to achieve its goals. But Messalina was growing accustomed by now.

"Zaeed talks big." Kelly said simply.

Miranda rolled her eyes. "I am so please you shared your insight with us, Yeoman Chambers."

Kelly tapped the fish tank once more, finding the Paddlefish hiding in the reef. Satisfied that all fish were accounted for, she turned around cheerfully.

"Zaeed talks big," Kelly elaborated. "because he has impotence."

Miranda gave Kelly a slow and disgusted glare.

"Oh, I don't mean physiologically, Miss Lawson." Kelly laughed. "He's androgynous as hell, but he has a gun he hasn't used in several years. No manner of bright technology will replace that. He may seem layered with years and wisdom, but he's a simple man with a simple desire. All the chaos in his life distilled his experience into one simple rule: there is no rule... as long as he can shoot something."

Shepard rolled over, burying her head. "So we can trust him?" she spoke muffled through the pillow.

"He's effusive in his loyalty, now, Shepard." Kelly assured her. "You may think it's strange, but you're the one who's bonded with an alien before. What's so difficult to understand the extremes in humanity?"

Messalina shook her head. Something in Zaeed's word had left her haunted, but she couldn't pinpoint it until now. Now, with Kelly's insight she finally grasped it. Zaeed had said, 'Jesse will be waiting'. She had discarded his words as another anxious blood thirsty boast.

But know it settled into context. Jesse was broken, she reminded herself. Zaeed was waiting for the one moment he envisioned his death. When all his sins would return, and he would be hanging in the wind with a non-functioning rifle in his hand. He had been so vicious because he was already at peace with how he would die, almost smiling at his imagination fondly, as if it were a good memory.

Zaeed, through his endless trails of parables, had in fact been asking her: "Have you prepared your grave, too, Shepard? Death is easier after that."


	14. Having a bad day, Shepard?

**Having a bad day, Shepard?**

-March, 2186

"Is that all you have to say for yourself?" Mikhailovich stared at Shepard. "That the man had erectile dysfunction?"

"That came out wrong." Messalina tasted blood in her mouth as she sucked on her cracked lower lip. The morning sessions with Mikhailovich had began to wane on her. Since she hardly had any company other than James Vega and David Anderson, Mikhailovich had become her regular punching bag. She could see that some of her tales had begun taking a toll on him as well. Perhaps she abused him too much, as she could see the abuse was finding its way back to her. As Zaeed said, Karma.

"If it weren't for your Spectre status, Shepard, I would assure you that you would have been tried for crimes against humanity!"

Messalina rocked back on her chair. He had a point. Some of her activities could be registered as bordering on the edge of insanity. After all that time she still couldn't rationalize what had driven her to try and earn the trust of every single member that threw themselves at the Omega 4 relay. It was an impossible mission borne of impossible consequences, and drastic measures had to be taken to ensure survival. She should have been able to accept that some of them would not be able to return. Yet somehow she tried and did the impossible.

* * *

-October, 2185

Everyone had dispersed upon the wind following that ordeal. When the Normandy limped back to Omega she had gathered the crew to Afterlife. Aria had emptied a lower meeting room for them, chasing away curious eyes by personally lending out guards. Most of the crew had signed on based on a contract, now fulfilled. There was nothing that drove them forward, and everyone seemed to know that this was the end. There were tearful good-byes and a lot of toasting, but in the end everyone knew that none would appreciate the full extent of what they had accomplished. They had betrayed the Citadel and its associated governments by participating in Cerberus, and in the end they had betrayed Cerberus as well.

"We never followed Cerberus, Shepard." Jack came over to Shepard, emptying a bottle. "I don't think that even the Cheerleader followed Cerberus."

"What are your plans, Jack?"

"I dunno. Enjoy freedom a bit. It's been a while since I've stretched my legs. Maybe I'll hijack that ship of yours."

"Huh." Shepard laughed. Somehow Jack's eyes didn't show the erratic directionless wandering that she used to show. "You've mellowed."

"Yeah." Jack shrugged, closing her dark leather jacket around her.

"Feeling a bit cold? I could tell someone to jack up the temperature a bit."

"Nah," Jack tossed the bottle to the floor. "I know you just used me, Shepard, to get to the Collectors."

"Yeah," Messalina nodded. Circumventing the truth didn't seem to help in these situations.

"All those pep talks in the basement, all those rallying cries, you know, like team spirit and stuff. Normally I'd want to kill you if I'd thought you'd manipulated me like that. Pass me another one, will ya?"

Messalina opened another bottle for her. Jack gulped down hard, as if talking had dried her mouth.

"I have to admit, sometimes I felt like I had to force myself to have you follow me." Messalina admitted. "You're a really difficult person, sometimes."

Jack leered mischievously. "Anyways, you got me my freedom, so let's say our debts are settled."

"Sure thing, Jack."

"Look, I'm not very good at these things." Jack fidgeted.

But Messalina shook her head. "I know, Jack. Thanks anyway."

Embarrassed, annoyed, and unsure of her newly found empathy, Jack frowned. "And f*** you, too."

* * *

-March, 2186

"Do you know where she went?" Mikhailovich narrowed his eyes.

"Lost track of her." Messalina shook her head.

"Zaeed Massani, Subject Zero, Thane Krios, Miranda Lawson, Jacob Taylor. These are all wanted men. And you're telling me you had a party before you just let them go?"

"No," Shepard cooed, sarcastically. "Wanted to bag them all and present them at your doorstep, Mikhailovich. Besides, I want you to know that I've PARDONED them with my rights as a Spectre."

"The Alliance-"

"The Alliance as a Council race will respect the decision of a Council Spectre." Shepard sat back.

Mikhailovich sweltered with rage, but Shepard's pulse barely rose. She waited for him to cool down. As much as she despised Mikhailovich, she had nothing to do when she returned to her quarters. Never allowed to set foot without an escort, who in turn had to receive permission from Mikhailovich, the days were long and sunset only beckoned sleepless nights.

"And the Cerberus Officer?"

* * *

-December, 2185

"I brought the wine, Shepard." Miranda entered their cohabitat, bottle of wine in hand.

The Normandy had just finished dropping off a sizable portion of crew on Ilium, and awaited rendezvous with the Alliance. The ship was empty, with the entire crew now having scattered on the wind. Miranda and Shepard had managed to divide their last funds into a modest severance package for the crew. Liara had helped them off to the destination of their choice. Before the New year struck, Shepard would surrender the Normandy to the Fifth fleet, as was arranged with Hackett. Miranda had asked to be the last off the ship.

They had arranged one last get together to celebrate the end of the most unappreciated mission of their lives, and Christmas.

"I see Doctor T'Soni hasn't arrived yet."

"I'm never sure when she comes or goes. I assumed she'd hang around, Christmas and all. I never asked her." Messalina scratched her head.

"Shepard," Miranda admonished with a sigh as she walked over to the kitchen looking for the cork screw.

"Huh?"

"You know Doctor T'Soni isn't human, Shepard." Miranda uncorked the bottle and let it rest before taking out the dishes. Shepard groggily joined her, shoving the dehydrated storage food into the processor. Miranda eyed the food processor disapprovingly. "Processed food, again?"

"I'm sorry, Miranda." Messalina replied in a tone that betrayed no apology. "I was ensured that it has all the vital nutrients for us to survive until the New year."

Miranda ordered Pizza even before the thirty second dehydration finished with a chime, producing a very dry brittle lump of tofu-meatloaf. Messalina stared at it for a moment, before Miranda swooped in and promptly discarded in the bin.

"Heroes of the Galaxy," Messalina muttered.

"If it's any consolation... " Miranda drummed her fingers, looking for something to say. "Aria seems happy that the Vorcha have settled down."

Miranda poured the wine, toasting.

"I won't be joining you on Christmas Eve," Miranda stated. Messalina had grown used to having her XO around. The months they had spent together had drawn them closer than any professional relationship she had had to the point where Messalina wouldn't know what to do alone. She knew it was coming. They had talked about it without pinning down a specific date. Where she was going was obvious; Miranda had family, now.

"Buy something pretty on your way off." Messalina suggested.

"Shepard," Miranda shook her head. "It's Omega. Everything's tawdry."

They moved over to the large plexiglass window staring out into the smog filled jagged horizon of Omega's Eezo refineries.

"What about you, Shepard?" Miranda asked. "Have you ever been to Earth?"

Messalina suddenly realized that Miranda might have never been to Earth before. Spacers, drifting among the stars since birth, eventually had to go to Earth once in a while to update their registry. It was an outdated system, but the Alliance held on to it to keep Spacers from drifting off to the stars. Colonists were different, and having a solid earth beneath their feet which they called home and distanced themselves from both the Earth and the Alliance had been the instigator of Earth's leash around their Spacer children.

But then there was Miranda. A sisterhood of altered clones of her father, yet unlike the variations of less perfect copies before her became the heiress of an empire. Miranda always talked about her selection, and more now about Oriana, the last copy of Henry Lawson, but little about those who preceded her. Messalina had learned that some were successful, and Henry Lawson had been able to create clones of himself rapidly in a vat to near perfection. But for some reason he had preferred to create X doubled female clones. Had there been a rebellious XY clone? Or was he simply a perverted narcissits?

Few people could perfect cloning. Poor defective and unstable specimens were common. Even Okeer could only produce one perfect soldier. Simply doubling the X chromosome had initially resulted in horrible consequences. Epigenetic silencing went haywire and conflicting alleles emerged in disfiguring mosaicisms that ranged from mental retardation to ambiguous genders. Henry had terminated these defective copies. Instead he began designing the characteristics one by one, gene by gene, while altering only so much as to vary from his own X chromosome as his ego allowed, yet allowing generous changes in epigenetic imprinting to help stabilize his artificial touches. The final result was Miranda, the perfect feminization of himself. Messalina could only imagine how infatuated her father must have been for Miranda. She had no doubt that Oriana was pretty much the replacement after Miranda escaped his cuckoldry.

Hence Miranda was something of an enigma. Her Earth was her Father, and her Space had been Cerberus. Had it not been for Oriana, Miranda would have been truly alone... like Shepard.

"Of course, Miranda." Messalina replied. "I've been there to register my address when I turned eighteen." Messalina scratched her memory. "Prospect Creek, Alaska. Never been there myself. Mom wanted some name we could remember clearly, and the town was virtually abandoned so we could avoid situations where some Earthborn might mistake us as a compatriot."

"Why not take your grandparent's address? Surely there must be somewhere you could trace the Shepard lineage back to."

"What would be the point, Miranda? It's just names, dead things and people who aren't there anymore."

"And your mother? Aren't you going to see her?"

"We didn't end our last transmission on a good note." Messalina replied, embarrassed.

* * *

-November, D-1, 2185

The chime rang again from her secure hotline to the Shadow Broker.

Messalina put down her armor, and walked over to reply. Curious, as she had just got off from a long tearful farewell with Liara. She smiled to herself, thinking Liara must have missed something to nag about.

Instead Glyph's voice rang clearly through the speakers.

"Patching you through to the SSV Orizaba, Commander. Secure channels established."

"Glyph! Get T'Soni on line, now!" Messalina barked angrily.

"Talk to her!", interrupted the Shadow Broker's booming baritone voice.

The screen immediately lit up to show the Alliance insignia and the letters of the SSV Orizaba briefly before being replaced by Hannah's anxious face.

"Honey!" her mother exclaimed. "I finally got through to you!"

"Hey Mom." Messalina replied. She really didn't know what to say. Hackett had been able to relay Hannah's letter to her with extreme difficulty, but Messalina could only request that he let her know that she was alive. The extremely fickle situation of where Messalina's loyalties lay would have endangered both Hackett and her mother. While she had no doubt that Hackett would be able to twist the Intel's right arm to have his way, the stalwart Hannah would probably have stubbornly vocalized support for her daughter.

"You couldn't contact me yourself?" her mother vented off immediately.

"It would have been difficult." Messalina trailed off, vaguely.

"I'm your Mother!"

"Yeah, it's a bit difficult to explain, Mom. Are you sure this transmission's secure?"

"I certainly hope so!" Hannah finally leaned back, studying her daughter through the screen, now scrutizing. Suspicion immediately spread through her features.

"I am Me, Mother." Messalina felt short on time, and Hannah wondering of her daughter's identity seemed flagrantly wasteful, considering the lengths to which both the Normandy and Liara exposed themselves to make this connection.

"What's your first-"

"Valeria, okay?" Messalina interrupted.

"Okay." Hannah, reassured. "Why haven't you contacted me? Hackett told me you were alive a few months ago. He said you went undercover into Cerberus. Is that why you couldn't call?"

"Sort of." Messalina wondered how tactful Hackett had covered for her.

"But it's been two years! You could have made some effort to contact me. Considering that your cover story involved the apparent destruction of the Normandy. They told me you were Dead!"

"Um, yeah."

"'Um, yeah'? Is that all you can say? After two years thinking you were dead, all you can say is 'Um, yeah'?"

"It was Complicated, okay? Let's leave it at that."

"The least you could do is apologize."

"You want an apology? Is that why we're relaying our messages off twenty stations? Fine! 'I'm Sorry', okay? Makes you happy?"

"Put yourself in my shoes for one minute, dammit." Hannah snapped. "I buried you! News reporters hounded me for interviews about your death. What sort of operation have you put yourself into?"

"I can't talk about it, Mom."

"Ugh!" Hannah screamed. "You're so frustrating. You're still angry about me about your childhood? Is that still the issue?"

"No, Mom!" Messalina groaned. "Calm down. I didn't go off to spite you, okay? I'd like to think we've past that, too. I'm over it."

"You're over it?" Hannah gasped. "Well thank you very much, dear lady. You just toss yourself into the maw of death everyday like a habit and mouth off to me that you're over it?"

"What do you want, Mom?" Messalina scowled. "Want me to quit? Settle down in Arkansas? Alaska? Whatever? Marry a nice Alliance officer? This is my life, Mom. I do this for a living. If you haven't noticed, I'm quite good at it, too."

"Yes, you're certainly good at it. Risking your life everyday, like that. How many fake funerals do I have to go through now? And you're telling me your life in the Marines had nothing to do with it? That you're over it? I might have believed you if you'd just settled down with your laurels, but you had to just jump into the fray again, hadn't you?"

"It's not like that!"

"It's not? Oh, then tell me where you're off to now, young lady!" Hannah demanded. "Tell me to my face that you're not going off to some no-return death wish. Tell me you're going to come home next week. Tell me! Dammit!"

Messalina couldn't. She started at the screen, gaping, as she saw her mother melt into a puddle.

"Why?" Hannah implored. "Why aren't you telling me anything? Why can't you just simply tell me that you'll be home next week? Next Month?"

"I..." Messalina stumbled for words. "I can't tell you that, Mom."

Hannah burst over crying. "Please, Messalina! I'm sorry. Please, come home. Please."

"Be safe, Mom." Messalina choked.

"No! Don't go-"

Messalina hurriedly switched off the communicator.


	15. Surrender

**Surrender**

- December, 2185

Messalina stood in rigid attention in her dress Alliance naval blue dress uniform, adorned with N7 insignia and Commander's stripes in front of the docking platform entrance on Ilium; as she had been trained, arms rested at her sides, the line from her shoulder to middle finger extending along the crease of her trousers and hems of her coat. A platoon of Alliance marines had been dispatched early and had side arms drawn and ready, pointing at her. The senior Marine, a Lieutenant Commander Karrato had proceeded to deploy her men in fashion of acquiring a rogue vessel, passing Shepard and overriding the hatch, then thoroughly inspecting the ship from top to bottom for remnant insurgents. Meanwhile, a squad of soldiers maintained a firing perimeter around Shepard.

Lieutenant Commander Karrato, either instructed to do so or chose to, never offered Messalina an exchange of words, other than simply ordering her to keep her hands behind the back of her head and kneel. However, Messalina maintained posture, and Karrato did not pursue the issue.

When the group sent into the Normandy had exited, Karrato radioed in, informing her superiors that the Normandy had been disabled of hostilities and it was safe to acquisition the pirate. Messalina kept her eyes forward and immobile throughout. She would not raise an incident, but she will maintain her actions just.

The senior officer who appeared was, judging from his lack of insignia, was from Alliance HQ. He sported plainclothes and no other marking of rank or affiliation, which he offered casually when he appeared before her.

"Captain Mittenmeier, Alliance Intelligence," he smiled casually.

Messalina offered a salute, which he ignored as he continued. "You need not salute me, Miss Shepard. Alliance HQ does not recognize your status as an officer. You didn't need to acquire this elaborate dress."

Messalina held her salute, rigidly.

"We have received reports of your alleged return, after you were reported KIA. Your body and associated person will be subject to suspicion before determining whether or not you are whom you claim to be."

Messalina persisted with her salute, which Mittenmeier found amusing. "Naturally, the nature of this arrest is thus that you are a member of Cerberus, with crimes against the Systems Alliance. You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do may be used against you in a court of law."

His words were slow and drawling as he began to slowly circle her with patient footsteps. "Understand, Miss Shepard, since the extremely unnatural circumstances concerning your presence, you are subject to enter as a suspected clone. Also considering the nature of our allegations against you, article seven of the Infiltration and counter infiltration field doctrine dictates that we hold you under thorough processing to determine your nature until you are allowed 'human rights'." He stepped forward. "Do you understand me, Miss Shepard?"

Messalina refused to acknowledge him.

"I asked you a question, Cerberus."

Messalina counted the armed men surrounding her. Eight small weapons. Her mind reflexively ran the scenario in her head: chop Mittenmeier in the larynx, take his side arm, shoot Karrato through her visor, roll, cloak, slit the neck of the one on the right, blade through the one on the left, cloak, acquire another pistol, and a couple of standard shots landing through the rest, three minutes. Instead, she waited.

"Karrato, commandeer the ship. Vega, escort Miss Cerberus here to the brig."

* * *

Vega was a mountain of a man. His armor could barely hold his bulging arms, which seemed to be as thick as her thighs. He stepped forward and gently tugged at her arms, which she stubbornly maintained in salute, even after Mittenmeier had left.

"C'mon, Commander." The man begged. "I don't like this, either. I promise this will all get sorted out, okay? Trust me on this."

Karrato's men had already disappeared into the Normandy, quickly firing up its engines. Messalina lowered her arms and slowly walked over to the railing, as the magnetic clamps began releasing from the ship's hull. Some of the remaining marines objected, aiming at her in alert, but Vega shooed them off as he carefully walked over to stand behind her.

Messalina leaned on the railings as the Normandy slowly pulled back, rotating slowly. The pilot seemed to be in a hurry, and without the assistance from EDI, who had hidden herself in a virtual shell program, the Normandy hiccupped once or twice, barely missing scraping the dock supports before slowly sailing towards the clouded skies of Ilium.

Vega remained patiently for Messalina to finally turn back to the troupe of marines.

"Thanks, Commander."

"I thought you were supposed to consider me an imposter, Vega." Messalina quipped dryly, as he manacled Shepard.

"Yeah, and I'm also supposed to not speak with you either, but Hell if I'm going to pass off a chance to get to know Commander Shepard!"

Vega grinned widely, displaying a row of white even teeth, eagerness leaping out of his eyes.

"Sorry about these," Vega apologized as he tested the cuffs. "heh, as if this would stop you in anyway. Just a formality."

"Vega," one of the other Marines called out in warning.

"What, Debulco?" Vega shot the other marine a sharp menacing glance, which immediately silenced the others. Shepard wasn't sure if those marines were now keeping a safe distance from them because of her or Vega.

"What unit are you from, Vega?" Shepard conversed as they made their way through the docks of Ilium.

"I'm actually not a part of these skinny little bastards." Vega jerked his thumb back, indicating the cadre of Marines. "They're a wet-works crew from Alliance intelligence. I'm from Delta squad."

"Think you can take me?" Messalina sized James up.

"Heh, you're joking." James flexed his muscles. It looked like he had babies packed under his arms. Shepard was small, definitely dwarfed by Vega, she was also skinny and wiry, and to someone who would glance at the pair walking side by side, one would think that Vega would probably be able to throw her with one hand. But, even as James chuckled, he caught the glint in her eye, the slow roving as her gaze swept up and down on him, as if cataloging his weaknesses. It was a predatory look, one he recognized from the wolves in the zoo back in San Diego. Even behind caged bars they seemed to stalk you, testing the bars once in a while, almost ignorant of the fact that they were the prisoners. "Right?" he added meekly.

Her gaze softened as she looked out across the horizon. "Yeah, just pulling your leg."

The shuttle that awaited them was a modified UT-47 Kodiak shuttle. The way it seemed to slightly dip below dock level showed Shepard that extra plating had been added at the last minute without compensation to the engines. A couple of atmospheric gunships and a squadron of patrol craft also told Shepard that they came prepared.

"Where we headed, Vega?"

"Call me James, Commander Shepard." Vega didn't seem to do much escorting, as he was now casually strolling along ahead of Shepard, minding his own pace. Despite his familiarity, he also seemed to have a bit of an attention problem, or was he just teasing her.

"And where are we headed, James?"

James spun around, like an eager boyfriend, or more like an excited child. "SSV Everest."

* * *

Messalina spent the next couple of hours lying on a cot, listening to James Vega talk about cooking. He seemed to carry almost no weight or concern of the world anywhere, carefree to the extent that Messalina began to see that he was actually trying to hide something. But she was too tired and stressed out to pry into his mind. The ordeal of handing over the Normandy caused stress far beyond what she had prepared herself for; listening to James talk about inane subjects put her mind off things.

He seemed extremely excited to see her. She had dated men once or twice when she was young. They would try to come on to her like this: eager, jittery, babbling, excited. In turn she had found them uninteresting and soon bored of meeting people. But James was young and impressionable, with a slight color of slyness from what seemed to be his rough-and-tumble days in the back alleys of Earth. Obviously, James was one of the newer generation of officers, growing up now in her shadow. It was jarring to think that there were a whole fleet of impressionable young men and women like James who had joined the military wanting to emulate her.

Just then the corridor bustled with activity. James got up to look outside, he hadn't even bothered to lock her cell, but had kept her manacles on per regulations. James, however, disappeared into the corridor and only returned following the heels of two very familiar faces.

Fleet Admiral Hayes of the second fleet, and Admiral Anderson, diplomatic attaché to the Citadel entered followed by James Vega. A small troupe of soldiers lined outside with armed weapons.

Her two former bosses looked down at her, Emily Hayes scrutinizing her while David Anderson seemed to wait for her approval. Emily Hayes's hair had grown completely white since she had last seen the old pirate queen. She seemed to have hugged her proverbial title of "Grand Mama of the Second" literally. She squatted down and peered closely at Messalina, who had found it difficult to suddenly sit up straight due to her manacles.

Messalina grinned back at Hayes, slightly embarrassed at her predicament. Emily's eyes roved over her for a few more seconds, before she got up and sat down on an empty chair. David Anderson, relieved of Hayes's approval, followed suit.

"Release those manacles, soldier. She looks ridiculous." Hayes barked at James. James hurried over and unfastened the omni construct and stepped back. Anderson ordered the soldiers to leave them alone.

"What have you to say for yourself, young lady?" Emily Hayes glared at her.

"Uhm…" Messalina stalled, "sorry?"

"You turn up alive and kicking and I have to get second hand word from Steven Hackett, the smug old bastard. He seems to think that he owns you; told me the other day that I already had a Shepard under my command, so it was fair that he had the daughter. Is that what you think?"

"Either way's good enough for me, as long as I can get back my ship." Messalina shrugged, sitting back.

Emily Hayes glared at Anderson, which made even the hardened ex-spec-ops warrior jump.

"A little bit of you rubbed off on her as well, I see." Hayes accused Anderson.

"Shepard's always been very frank in her assessments." Anderson evaded the question.

Emily Hayes harrumphed, crossed her arms. "As far as I know all both Steven and David, here, are also subject to some inquiry when we reach Earth. Not as severe as your own, Mess, but nevertheless….. Steven's been scurrying about like an old mad prophet, wailing about some impending doom to the Alliance high council. David's been a bit less tactful, running afoul of the Citadel Council, itself, trying to convince them that ancient sentient robots are going to destroy us. Anything you want to say about that?"

Messalina sat up straight and stared at Emily Hayes intently. "It's true, ma'am. The Reapers are coming."

Emily Hayes held her stare for a heartbeat or two. Finally, breaking down into a concerned frown.

"I was afraid of that." Emily confessed. "I had hoped that Steven and David were just being crazy. I don't know, I had thought that maybe the two of them, being such megalomaniacs, had just veered a promising impressionable officer off into engineering some anti-Batarian war for them."

Hayes got up, pacing about the room, eyes closed as she tried to recall what the reports from Anderson and Hackett, and more importantly the wild and unbelievable tales from Shepard's own classified eyes-only had read. A couple of minutes passed by in silence, as Hayes tried to process it. Failing, she warily stumbled into her seat.

"I don't mind a tribunal, Admiral." Messalina spoke calmly. "Hackett warned me that I'd probably have to return to Earth. I surrendered the Normandy because I couldn't fight My War alone with Cerberus resources. I need the entire Galaxy at my back for me to charge up the hill."

Messalina stood up, which alarmed James. But even with the lightest push Messalina kept the hulking man in his seat. James, first alarmed at Shepard walking casually around the cell, with two of the highest ranking officers he had seen up close calmly ignoring the situation, was now alarmed that despite all his might, Shepard was forcing him down, so casually, as if she were pressing down on a soft pillow.

Messalina continued, "I don't care what the Alliance Brass thinks whether or not I performed crimes against humanity, or dishonored the code. Even though I have never besmirched the uniform, that is secondary to the threat we face. The threat that is coming will wipe out every civilization in the Galaxy. I have seen the face of the devil, and it not something we can reason with. It is older than eons, and through practice, it has become very efficient in purging the Galaxy. Even if we rally everyone everywhere, we will probably lose, as countless other civilizations have crumbled before us. We must rally everyone with a singular focus to destroy or be destroyed. Frankly, admirals, this trial which I try to uphold with honor, is a blasphemy to the countless other civilizations that have perished before us. I have tried to warn everyone. I have delayed their coming, not once, but twice now. And still no one listens. But, if this trial is what it takes for me to do that, then I'm willing to go through whatever I must."

By now, Messalina's grip on his shoulder was so hard that James was profusely sweating. But it wasn't her grip or hidden physical strength that put James out of his breath. As her words echoed through the brig, both admirals, each a great officer in their own right, seemed to shrink before her. To him, Shepard, his hero whom he had first found disappointingly smaller than he had expected, suddenly seemed to grow enormous, terrifying. The glint in her eyes shone through her tired lines and dark circles, alive and consuming.

Messalina suddenly removed her hand. James stumbled forward, breathing heavily.

Emily Hayes stared at the woman whom she once held in her arms as a small baby. Four years away from her had changed Messalina. She had seen the girl as a baby in her grandfather's arms, as a girl running around the war ship under her command, as a sullen teenager stalking the empty space station corridors, and as a young officer, bright and promising. It seemed like only yesterday, when she had warned the young woman of the towering charisma of David Anderson. And now, David Anderson sat with her, looking tired, with a wry smile on his face only befitting an old man surrendering his legacy to the giant before them.

Emily felt slightly cheated. In four years Steven Hackett, the sly fox, had turned her promising pupil into a legend. Where had the stars asked Messalina to go during all that time? What had she seen to have changed her from a socially inept army brat to a blinding tower of will? Was she still the same Messalina she had greeted when entering the cell? That had been the old Messalina, granted with some new found spunk that she had never seen before.

She wasn't a clone, Emily determined. Clones were always a fickle bunch. Insecure of their identities. The full-grown clones were the most unstable, waking up to a body they had no experience in growing up in. Even clones reared from youth were a suspicious bunch at best. Messalina before her was no clone.

Mind control often betrayed signs of unnatural personality traits, characteristics that would conflict with each other. Despite being exceptionally driven, she still seemed like an extension of her old self.

"Anderson?" Hayes smothered her pride and deferred judgment to Messalina's most recent CO.

"I haven't had the pleasure to know the Commander as long as you have, Admiral. But I believe every word she says. I've come to trust her with my life. We may outrank her, Admiral, but she is our Leader. And if we want to survive, we had best start following her orders."


	16. Parental Guidance

**Parental Guidance**

-December, 2185

The Orizaba docked with the Everest, like its captain desperately clinging to her mentor before the latter took her child to stand before judge and jury. Captain Shepard entered the Everest alone, unaccompanied by her aide along the umbilical cord that stretched through space between the two dreadnoughts.

It had been some time since she had met her mentor and friend. Emily Hayes and Hannah Shepard had been the David Anderson and Messalina Shepard of the Universe before the latter duo began raging across the Galaxy representing the new generation of human intrepidity. They had been through a lot together, first as a science officer for the small research vessel Hayes had captained, and later being introduced to Alan and John Shepard. Emily had been there for her when she heard that John was killed in action. She had been there for her when she couldn't go to Messalina in the wake of Alan's death. It was Emily who helped transform the disgruntled teenager into an Alliance cadet.

Hannah passed through the curious onlookers, briefly shaking hands with old acquaintances, as she made her way to the Fleet Admiral's offices.

"She's waiting for you... with company." the ship's Captain, Chen, informed her.

Hannah arched her eyebrows in query, but Chen simply opened the door for her before vanishing.

Emily Hayes greeted her friend with a warm hug, leading her to a seat beside a tall strongly built man whom she recognized through enough holonews casts. They shook hands.

"It's an honor to meet you, Admiral Anderson."

"The honor is mine, Captain." They traded formalities.

Hannah cut to the chase.

"Where is she, Em?"

Admiral Hayes sipped her coffee, indicating a need for patience. David Anderson remained silent, following Hayes's lead, looking down at his hands.

"I only got a few fleeting rumors along the grape vine." Hannah urged testily. "Did Messalina blow up... did she blow up a Relay?"

"Crashed an asteroid into it." Anderson supplied, avoiding her look.

Her fears confirmed, Hannah burried her head in her hand, wondering if this was what the proverbial 'call your parents to school' felt like. A twinge of guilt engulfed her, immediately; Messalina never needed Hannah to ever visit her school when she had to live alone on the station, and despite her absence had grown up to a status that few parents could only hope for in their child. But, Hannah hated it. She hated that Messalina seemed to be playing the hero, like John. She hated that she was out on missions that had to be kept secret from her family. She hated having to hear about life and death situations second handed from strangers like Anderson and Hackett. And for some reason, two men whom Messalina had latched onto in Hannah and Emily's absence had engineered her to demolish half the Fifth fleet, have her go missing for two years, only to return after killing hundreds of thousands of Batarians, dragging the Alliance to inevitable war.

Hannah glared at Anderson, who kept avoiding eye contact. She knew men like him, she determined. Men so driven by personal cause that they would send impressionable young officers, imbued with a false sense of loyalty, to commit atrocities in proxy. Men who would stand by, hands behind their back as they watched their scapegoats dangle on the gibbet.

How Messalina must have fallen for them, Hackett and Anderson, strong men who had been absent in her life since Alan's death. Hannah stabbed herself out of insurmountable guilt, the weight of her absence finally crashing down on her in full force. Her proud and beautiful daughter, so strong and bright with her father's dark raven hair and her mother's steely wide eyes, her grandfather's sharp and delicate chin, and how she had grown up to be a fine specimen of humanity, representative of its hopes and dreams for the future. Now her daughter was somewhere in the underbelly of the Everest, entombed like a mythical demon in shackles under a mountain, awaiting trial. She was a war criminal.

Hannah recalled her last transmission with her daughter, only a few weeks ago. Pleading her to desist and return home, talk about it. She should have done more. She should have demanded that Messalina's Asari girl friend, who had contacted her out of the blue, to take her to her daughter. The Asari had been open, kind, reassuring, but warned her that even she couldn't swerve Messalina from her path.

"There are circumstances surrounding Commander Shepard's arrest that you should know." Anderson began, slowly.

Hannah glared at him, venomously. David Anderson, who always appeared before the holovids as an indomitable hurricane, now seemed to tremble, cautious of Hannah's reactions.

"Her status as a reinstated Council Spectre will be able to remit her from most of the charges." Anderson explained.

"Is that even possible? Why would the Council be backing Shepard?" Though slightly relieved, Hannah was surprised that the Council would ignore such extreme levels of attrition to the Batarians. Was the attack a Citadel fueled spear of war to incite the Batarians?

"All I can say," Anderson glanced at Hayes, who seemed to nod as an approval. "is that Shepard's will probably be pardoned on most charges. I've currently petitioned the Council to issue a formal statement approving and vouching for the Commander's actions."

"Did she or didn't she act on the Council's behalf?" Hannah demanded.

"She acted with their leave." Anderson chose his words carefully.

"Sanctioned? Ordered? What is the nature of this whole fiasco, exactly?"

"All we can tell you is that she was 'allowed' to pursue an independent investigation that she deemed necessary." Hayes interrupted, trying to clarify but without success. "We aren't allowed to divulge the details under Citadel and Alliance law."

"And what about her commission?"

"That is still pending the tribunal's decree." Anderson resumed. "Currently she has been officially disavowed and dishonorably discharged for acts of treason against the Systems Alliance. Her custody aboard the Everest has been ordered by Justice, to detain and present her on Earth."

Hannah felt hot tears welling up.

"Hannah..." Hayes tried to calm her.

"No!" Hannah shouted, suddenly. "You do not get to 'Hannah' me, Em! I spent my life with you under your command! I gave up my family for you! You do not get to tell me my daughter, John's girl, Alan's granddaughter is now a War criminal charged with treason and tell me to calm down about it."

"Captain Shepard..." Anderson tried his turn. "Please, we'll try to work it out-"

"And you!" Hannah poked a finger in his chest. "You've crippled my daughter! Before she met you she was a Hero of the Alliance. Look how she's fallen. A criminal. Destined for who know's where?What is she now, dammit?"

But to her surprise Anderson's face hardened.

"She's still a Hero, Captain Shepard." he barked. Hannah, taken aback by his sudden forcefulness, stumbled back in her seat. "She's the greatest Hero I've ever had the honor of meeting. I'd die happily knowing that Commander Shepard protects this Galaxy. She may be in a difficult position right now, but she's been in worse. I don't claim to know everything she's been through. I can't even claim to even imagine the difficulties she's had to endure. But one thing I'm certain: Me, you, Hayes, and every human and living soul in the Galaxy wouldn't be alive now if it wasn't for her."

He caught himself, surprised at himself at his own fury. He settled down, relenting.

"I've spoken to much." He added quietly. "I've never had children of my own. Never had time for a family. None of us had. If I were you, I'd be proud. I would be proud beyond any parent. Your daughter is a gift of humanity."

His voice betrayed utter sincerity, dripping with true envy and respect to her and her daughter. Hannah felt confuse, yet profoundly moved by his words.

* * *

Hayes and Anderson left Hannah to walk by herself towards her daughter's cell. It was the only brig active, yet oddly open. There were frequent chuckles and voices emanated, one which she recognized as Messalina's. The jailer, a hulking beast of a man, balanced his chair back on two legs, which rested on the wall as he served out a deck of cards. Messalina, dressed in her N7 hoodie, was lying casually on the small bunk with a frustrated look at the deck she was served.

Hannah spied on them for a moment in the shadows.

"I win, Commander." the jailer whooped. "Que está en quiebra, chica."

Messalina tossed the deck aside and caught Hannah's presence.

"Mom." Messalina's voice seemed bright, inviting, cheerful.

Hannah smiled cautiously as the jailer excused himself, and to her surprise left them completely by themselves. Hannah settled down into the chair as Messalina got up, straightening her clothes. Hannah wanted to hug her daughter, she had imagined doing so all the way down to the brig. But somehow, the two of them ended up sitting face to face, calmly, as if they were having dinner.

"How have you been?" Hannah offered cautiously.

"Fine," Messalina shrugged. She wasn't offering up. Hannah felt a twinge of jealousy to the jailer who had conversed so happily with her daughter.

"You haven't been eating well." Hannah noted that her daughter seemed skinnier than her usual skin and bones.

"Everest wasn't exactly renown for its culinary tastes, Mom." Messalina reminded her mother of their time together aboard the vessel.

"You weren't always choosy over your food."

Messalina didn't reply, instead asked about Hannah.

"You know I always manage." Hannah replied. "My term Captaining the Orizaba is almost over. I'm thinking of settling down."

Messalina arched her eyebrows, incredulously. "Prospect Creek, Alaska?"

"No, silly." Hannah scowled. "I thought maybe the somewhere pleasant and warm. Eden Prime, maybe-"

"No." Messalina stated firmly.

"Horizon-"

"No. Not Horizon." Messalina shook her head firmly.

"Why not? We don't have a lot of money, Messalina." her mother reminded her. "They say this new place on Horizon, Sanctuary, is wonderful."

"I have a bad vibe about Horizon." Messalina persisted firmly. "You're not retiring yet, are you?"

"I've been drifting too long, Messalina." Hannah sighed. "I want to prepare a home for us to retire to."

Messalina shook her head. "I can't retire, Mom."

"But they say you'll probably be discharged."

"I can't, Mom." Messalina seemed to plead for her mother not to ask about it, not to go through the whole argument again.

Hannah conceded, having been spent already with Hayes and Anderson.

"Alright, Mess." she sighed. "I won't ask what you were up to. I promised myself that."

"When this is all over, Mom," Messalina replied brightly, grateful at her mother's change in attitude. "Maybe we can go live on the Citadel."

"Citadel's expensive, honey." Hannah laughed. "I keep telling you that! Ever since you were little, you wanted to live on the Citadel."

"You can come live with me and Liara." Messalina ventured.

"Are you sure you want to live with that ... with Liara?"

Messalina let that slide. "I'm sure, Mom. She' great. She's my better half."

"You're good through and through, honey."

Embarrassed, but pleased, Messalina grinned. "We'll figure it out, Mom. We can still sail among the stars, calling it our home. I could never call a piece of dirt, home. I don't think you'll bear it either."

"I'll think about it." she promised.


	17. Death Wish

**Death Wish**

-September, 2186

"In my cycle," Javik hid no disgust as he poked at the remains of the Geth Hunter that flickered in and out of transparency as its charge bled out from its capacitors. "a Zha'til colony committed mass suicide when they began to feel their symbiotic AI take over."

The cool breeze of Rannoch's evening air was fresh and tasty. Messalina wiped her brow of sweat before pushing her goggle visors up. The lack of Quarians had definitely left Rannoch in pristine untouched clearness, almost as if it were an unbroken wilderness. The remains of Quarian architecture unused by the Geth had crumbled to dust long ago. Only those buildings incorporated by Geth stood far off, glistening, sterile.

"Your point?" Tali's optics flashed.

Javik, as was his wont, ignored her, tossing the uncomfortable ball of awkward silence to Messalina to defuse.

"Suicide is stupid." Messalina remarked.

"Oh!" Tali chirped, happily. "You mean you were bluffing when you said 'Suicide Mission', the last time?"

Messalina shrugged. "I never coined that word, Tali. That was mostly Miranda's. If I were determined to kill myself, I'd probably have packed the Normandy with a shitload of neutron bombs right through the Omega-4 relay."

Tali paused for a moment at the simplicity of it. "That makes sense."

* * *

- March, 2173

"Do you have a death wish, Candidate?"

Chief Ellison screamed at her. Messalina determined that he had no other way of talking. He was always screaming, which must have hurt his vocal cords. It was a plague of modern regenerative medicine that allowed some people the excess that they should never overindulge. Of course, the same could be said about her.

She had broken her arm while trying to break a fall by grabbing onto small ledge. The fall, in turn, was after slipping off the surface of an automated defense tower. It had sputtered to a stop when she hacked it open to disable it.

Her arm was dangling in an unnatural way as she lifted it and toyed with it.

"Do you hear me? Did your fall addle your brain, Candidate?" Ellison continued screaming.

"No, Drill Instructor." Messalina replied calmly. Her accident had suspended the exercise and the other cadets began mulling around them, some concerned, mostly curious. Despite being a relatively thankless profession, the Marines always historically prided themselves as the best of the best. Whatever you could say about pilots, naval officers, or artillery, peak physical condition was a prerequisite of the Marines. And during the Interplanetary Combatives Training, which sometimes failed every candidate, a loss of a competitor sometimes meant the probability of survival for another increased. Of course, no one would say that out loud. Messalina just considered the general lack of a polite "you okay" was enough.

She opened her armor storage and fished out a packet of medigel, slicing it down with her knife. You only received small packets of medigel, with additional requisitions turning up poorly on your candidacy evaluations. The gel began to liquefyand absorb into her skin as she applied it to her bare arms.

Messalina breathed deep before pulling her hand, setting the bone straight for the medigel to do its work. It was unsettling. The pain remained as the regenerative signals in her body awoke accelerating with cascading speed. A dizziness from the increased metabolic load hit her, forcing her to close her eyes for a moment.

"Clear." She said simply, when it was over, flexing her arms. She got up and dusted her training uniform.

"What was the meaning of that stunt you pulled, Candidate?" The man who stepped forward between the Candidates, parting like the Red Sea, wore an N7 insignia. She had never seen him before, but she assumed he was one of the ICT officers evaluating the candidates. "Those guns are placed to see how well you can progress through an artillery covered field."

"I believed that the best way to progress through an open fire zone was to take out the guns firing on the zone, sir." Messalina replied.

The officer frowned, opened his omnitool and checked the gun's status.

"You've caused property damage." he quipped, sarcastically. "I don't care if you're Em Hayes's girl. You get no special treatment in Rio."

Chief Ellison, finding the exercise damaged and indefinitely suspended, barked at the platoon leaders to lead the men back to the barracks. He had only been alarmed at the accident, personally thinking it was a great initiative on Shepard's part. He didn't expect the senior N7 to intrude upon his exercise either. The kid had it rough. One of the youngest candidates invited to the 'villa'. There were rumors that she was being groomed. But Ellison didn't think so. 'Groomed' officers never needed to go through the living hell of the ICT. 'Groomed' officers usually graduated the Naval Command academy.

Shepard had been an enlisted Marine. While she had finished high school early from home schooling, the girl shied away from academics and enlisted immediately. She had shown exceptional promise early on, leading doomed squads out of tough situations... like today.

Shepard, due to her youth, was seldom given leadership. Especially in the 'villa' where officers from everywhere gathered, Shepard's special promotion to 2nd lieutenant pending her completion of the N1 made her the lowest ranking candidate. Even among those gathered from the NCO corps, she was the youngest and smallest, the Runt.

But she stood out in combat. Her platoon leader, Lieutenant Trish was in a bind; her platoon always achieving mission objectives with glaring success, but mostly due to Shepard's unorthodox solo tactics on the field. Ellison could only imagine what she endured back in the barracks, away from the brass.

Shepard had military ties, but nothing extraordinary. Her grandfather, retired and deceased, and her father, KIA, with a mother, a scientist turned full naval officer. It was a weird pedigree. If it had not been for her family, Shepard would not stand out from most of her fellow Marines grunts: a youngster on her own trying to make a living. And then there was Rear Admiral Hayes. While Hannah Shepard had caused a ruckus to ask the ICT to not accept her daughter into their program, Hayes had sent along mixed messages, openly supporting Hannah Shepard while secretly recommending Messalina Shepard. They were one very screwed up family.

Ellison shrugged. Runt or Hero, it didn't matter in the ICT. If you were good, you survived, and this was only week two.

* * *

-December, 2185

"She's your granddaughter, isn't she?" Anderson stared at Emily Hayes.

The resemblance was uncanny. You could miss it when just looking at Hannah and Emily Hayes. But when you put all three women together, you could see the faint resemblance. Obviously Emily Hayes had received some form of plastic surgery to diminish the resemblance, either through injury or on purpose.

"You're good." Hayes admitted. All her life she had denied it. But now denial was too tiresome. She was the first female fleet admiral. She had no family of her own. Even in this day and age, a woman working for herself could never support a family and keep a career at the same time. Despite equal opportunity measures, there were always so many hurdles to overcome.

"Does Captain Shepard know?"

"No." Emily turned her chair away from David Anderson. She had abandoned Hannah when she was born. She had hoped that the girl would be adopted, but something in her blood had been too fiery to tame. Hannah ended up growing up in an orphanage, then released onto the streets. When Emily Hayes returned to Earth from a long duty overseeing Gargarin Station, Hannah had worked her way into the ROTC program to help herself through college. The girl was ambitious, if nothing else. With the recent discovery of hidden alien technology, everyone was clamoring for a scientific degree. Hannah had managed to receive full scholarship, but also wanted to go out into space herself. Hayes had next found her daughter as a scientist under Alan Shepard's intelligence team. And so began the relationship to assuage her guilt.

And here now was a broken family of women, three generations of them from mother to daughter. Everyone of them riddled in guilt and self loathing, burning with a passion which could engulf stars, each one as ambitious as hell, and each one hating their mother. It had been easier on Emily when Messalina latched onto her more than Hannah. A selfish part of her had welcomed her granddaughter's attachment, as if it somehow showed Hannah that Emily was not the only bad mother. She would be the first one to admit that it was twisted.

It was easier to excuse when she was young, when a promising career seemed to be heading towards ruin with an unwanted child. Now, without the excuse of youth, there was only guilt.

"I don't want anyone to know." Emily Hayes stared at the stars, as if talking to them.

"It's not my place to tell anyone." Anderson replied.

"Messalina... " Emily tried to explain, to condone her actions, to hide her guilt, "she's all our children, David."

David stood up to leave. He couldn't bear being in the room with her anymore. "I have to go."

"You've never had to be a mother!" Emily tried to justify herself one last time.

"Neither did you."


	18. Divergence

**Divergence **

-May 2186

"Attention!" The midshipman shouted. "Commanding Officer on deck."

Usually the presence of the CO on deck was nothing spectacular, and Hannah Shepard had forgone most formalities if possible. But she knew that Admiral Mikhailovich loved formalities, and as the new CO of the Orizaba, and now the leader of Alpha wing of the Second fleet, he was entitled to his proclivities.

Hannah offered her salute, which Mikhailovich savored for a moment before replying.

"Sir, I relinquish command of the Orizaba."

"I accept command, Rear Admiral." Mikhailovich shook her hand. "It's been a while. Congratulations on your promotion."

"Thank you, sir."

The two headed down deck, trailed by her XO and a few other staff, which Mikhailovich impatiently waved away as they entered the CO's cabin. Mikhailovich's aide hurried forward and poured out a few refreshments, set up the briefing pads before becoming scarce.

"I regret to say that your daughter's inquisition is not proceeding very well."

"Sir." Hannah had no wish to share personal matters with Mikhailovich. Their tour together as CO and XO had not been the most fondest of her memories.

"Normally she would have been set up for a full court-martial, dishonorably discharged." Mikhailovich continued, smugly. "But Hackett and Hayes both seem to have overextended themselves trying to exonerate her. The Council has been bargaining for her to sign her own resignation, honors in tact. I would advise her to do so. As your mother, you should advise her to do so."

"She is her own person, Admiral." Hannah replied stiffly.

"Yes." Mikhailovich sneered. "Hackett seems to have forgotten his place. I advised the Council, as a member of the defense board, to send the Fifth to bolster our defenses along the Skyllian verge. But Hackett was adamant that every fleet maintain jumping distance to Earth and Arcturus. The man is convinced that an attack on Earth is imminent. Utter nonsense. We are a Council Race. I think he's just acting to undermine my position on the defense council."

"Sir." she stiffly replied.

"Your assignment seems to take you away from the Second, at last." Mikhailovich finally gave up on goading her.

"I petitioned to return to my scientific research." Hannah explained.

"Admirable," Mikhailovich smiled. "Command is not always cut out for everyone."

Hannah made her way down to the shuttle bay. The new Kodiak awaiting her would take her to a service transport frigate that was heading out to the Citadel. Although her designation was reverted to research, she had actually been signed on to a transfer waiting list by Command. Allegations concerning her daughter had eventually bled onto her, and the Personnel Command had difficulty deciding what to do with her. Hannah would usually have gone to Hayes for help, but the Admiral somehow left the impression that she was avoiding her since her reunion with her daughter. Perhaps Hayes was trying to save her own neck. Hannah recalled how she had shouted at Hayes, but having since recovered much of her relationship with her daughter Hannah felt little regret in taking a step back. She had to admit, after finding peace with Messalina in the brig of the Everest, she felt deflated, like the wind had been taken out of her. Every day since then felt like a chore to go through.

The Kodiak shuttle, to her surprise was not designated with any ship insignia, but rather bore the flag of her own person. Hannah gave a wry smile at the meaning. She had seen admirals with private shuttles before, but having been commander of a dreadnought for a few years, it seemed small. She could see where this was going. She'd be allotted an alliance liaison office off the citadel, and with all practicality this Kodiak before her would be the only vessel she would be commanding.

A young flight lieutenant was waiting for her, snapping into a salute.

"Lieutenant Milque, ma'am." The young man shook her hand warmly. "I'll be your aide, driver, guard and all around man-Friday."

The Kodiak had been refurnished to ferry a flag officer, the seats were dark leather surrounded by a VI interface that she assumed would be connected with Avina once they settled down into her office at the Citadel.

"So much for research." She muttered as she seated herself.

"Sorry, ma'am?" Milque was a thin young man, small, yet remarkably wiry. The resemblance of his physique with her daughter prompted her mind to flag him as not some standard aide de camp.

"You're an Infiltrator." Hannah studied the young man as he casually started up the Kodiak.

"I've left the Special Forces, ma'am. Now I'm just a pilot." He shrugged without turning.

Hannah skimmed over his files from the VI terminal. "Delta squadron."

"Yes, ma'am." He replied, cheerfully without offering more. The shuttle rumbled dangerously. "Sorry about that. Inertial dampers switching on; you can sit back now."

As the Kodiak lifted from the hangar it breezed into a comfortable low muffled movement. Hannah looked out her window as they left the Orizaba's hangar without so much as a fanfare from her crew of five years.

"So, who'd you f*** up to be assigned to me, Milque?" Hannah asked.

"What do you mean, ma'am? I volunteered to be your pilot." Milque replied. "My squad leader used to be pretty much in love with everything Shepard."

"Yeah, wrong Shepard, junior." Hannah relaxed back, closing her eyes. Saying that Hayes had been distant had been a gross understatement. The rumors leaking from HQ told her Messalina was not faring well. The committee that oversaw her trial proceeded from Investigator to Investigator, drilling her for more. It had stretched too long. What should have been a standard inquiry neither terminated with satisfactory results, nor blew up into a larger investigation; they were stalling.

At the bequest of Messalina, Hannah had refrained from contacting either Anderson or Hackett about it. She had said it was all under control. That was a strange way to put it. Hannah had learned that Messalina had been placed under heavy guard. Liara had not been able to contact her, and she had further informed the elder Shepard that Messalina had been completely isolated and denied access of any kind. How the young Asari would know such things was beyond her, but Liara had oft proved astoundingly resourceful for a professor on sabbatical.

Hayes had refused to see her immediately following her meeting with Messalina, going so far as to confine herself in her office until Hannah was off the Everest. Subsequent standard group leader briefing were also curtailed until the Orizaba and her patrol group were ordered to patrol the Widow Nebula until further notice. And as soon as Hannah had attained flag rank, she was immediately transferred off Second fleet.

Hannah never questioned her orders. While usually she would have caused a stir, something had changed in her, that now she actually wished some more peace and quiet. Despite her career making a left turn, she was oddly satisfied and grateful for the breather. Considering her anxiety over the loss and rumored return of her daughter, Hannah figured the inner peace came from knowing that her daughter was safe. Despite being under heavy lock up, at least Messalina wouldn't be able to hurt herself.

"I'm not sure what we'll be doing on the Citadel, Admiral." They cleared the barrier field of the dreadnought as they sped toward the large carrier off in the distance. Milque turned around only to find Hannah had fallen asleep.

* * *

"That's unfortunate." Hackett rubbed the thick scar that ran across his face. In this day and age, he could have easily had it removed. But the man was all about presence. The tightly knit Fifth fleet was renown for its own fanaticism toward their admiral, something Emily Hayes seemed to be missing in recent years. The Second had always been like family, but with the events following the Geth War, it had been itching for a piece of action that the Fifth fleet had monopolized. Discontent among the Captains had been brewing as news of Commander Shepard's resurrection drove everyone to think that maybe they weren't fighting the right fight.

Hackett had easily aligned himself with Commander Shepard's agenda, appearing frequently on the vids to promote more and more young men and women to enlist. Despite outcries against him that he was steering the Alliance to war mongering, he had remained steadfast.

Emily Hayes glared at her Fifth fleet counterpart across the screen. She knew his reasons, although it was difficult to wrap her head around the idea.

"You still think that a fleet of robot warships are going to invade from the beyond?"

"I'm surprised that you're not convinced." Hackett was always solemn.

The Citadel had officially proclaimed that it had been the Geth. The fact also colluded with Messalina's later reports that so-called 'Heretic' Geth branch had splintered from the main Geth hive and had instigated the attack. It was foolish of Messalina to incorporate the Collector activity and try to associate it with the Geth incursions.

Despite Hackett's support of Messalina's ramblings, Hayes suspected that Hackett was actually trying to expand human colonization deep into Batarian territory. The mission that Hackett had sent Messalina to deep in Batarian space served only to show where the man's ambitions pointed to.

"If you're thinking of playing this act to recuperate your losses from the Geth fleet three years ago-"

"I am not trying to rally humanity to War, Admiral." Hackett interrupted her impatiently. "The Reaper threat is real."

"Reapers..." Hayes shook her head. The name itself was ridiculous. "Steven, we've known each other a long time, now. We haven't exactly seen eye to eye, but I deserve the truth from you."

"I am giving you the truth, Emily." Hackett replied. "Everything's in Commander Shepard's report. Virmire, Ilos, Omega, Horizon, Bahak."  
"The Citadel-"

"The Citadel is in denial." Hackett strained. "All they're concerned about, all they have been concerned about for the past two millennia, is to maintain status-quo."

"Terra-Firma-"

"It's not Terra Firma, Emily. I have David Anderson running around the Citadel, trying to convince other races to start building up. We have a threat beyond imagination knocking at our door steps. You haven't seen the damage one single Reaper could do to a fleet."

"I know what it did to yours, Steven." Emily shook her head, returning to subject, "I've sent Hannah away. I have enough 'Shepard' trouble as it is. Men and women of the Service are starting to ask questions."

"You can't silence the truth." Hackett maintained stubbornly.

"Stop being a Conspiracy Theorist, Steven! This is not about Cerbereus, this is not about the Citadel politics. It's just all about you and your damaged ego having lost half your fleet three years ago. Politically, by saving the Council you might have elevated humanity. But , every military strategist thinks you made the blunder of your life when you sacrificed firepower to save the Destiny Ascension. Command will probably keep you patrolling the Terminus systems until you retire. Be reasonable!"

"I want Captain Shepard under my command."

"Leave her alone, Hackett." Hayes warned him. "She's gone through enough. I've sent my recommendation to Personnel that she retire. She's done enough for the Alliance."

"You don't get to tell her that, Admiral." Hackett shrugged.

"I've seen how you used Messalina. I won't have you using her mother to chase windmills."

Hackett studied her silently, making her fidget. But whatever he wanted to say, he kept quiet and signed off. Hackett had been recruiting odd people from in and out of the Service. Hayes knew that he had gathered his once famous Delta squad for a private meeting before maneuvering the two surviving members to stand guard around the two Shepard women. It had seemed innocuous enough at first. James Vega had been a fine officer before he disappeared into the slums of Omega following the tragedy of Fehl Prime. Todd Milque had been a washed out man who seemed to refuse to hold a gun any more, before Hackett had him review his pilot license before he innocently attached the young man as an aide de camp for Hannah. Recently, Hayes had received information that Hackett had been brewing up sensation at the Mars archives by assigning the prominent archaeologist, Liara T'Soni to review top-secret information. David Anderson had curried a favor with the Asari Councilor and had managed to strong arm Intelligence into accepting the famous Prothean expert. There were rumors that Hackett was collecting loyal "Shepherds", as the conspiracy theorists called themselves, to a special task force.

Hayes had her own cards.

"I want Lieutenant Commander Williams in my room."

* * *

It was amusing to note that Ashley Williams held the position that Messalina had held four years ago, Commander of the Everest HQ marines. Ashley had just transferred from the Fifth following the incident on Horizon last year. Emily could see several similarities between the two young women, including service as an NCO, commission following a major victory, and coming from a military family. But Ashley Williams was the polar opposite of Messalina. Where Messalina was often called the 'ice queen', never mixing in with her troops, Ashley was the Big Sister of the marines. She was immediately on first names basis with everyone as soon as she came on board. She had a fiery temper and a down to earth easiness that invited everyone into her heart. While Messalina would fill her troop assessments with 'Satisfactory; requires gun range 2,000 shots', Ashley would file in lengthy reports about how one PFC seemed to have difficulty adjusting after first deployment and how she would like to have the PFC trail her on Amber level away missions. Both women commanded fierce loyalty from their marines, but while Messalina inspired them to follow her lead through example, Ashley would delve into their hearts with a sense of brotherhood. Hayes was quite surprised and far more than with the change of atmosphere down in the barracks, which had followed in the footsteps of Messalina's rigid discipline since her transfer to the Normandy.

"Wanted to see me, ma'am?" Ashley presented her self.

"Take a seat, Ash." Hayes nodded with a smile. "How's the leg?"

Ashley laughed. "Just a scrape, ma'am. Thanks for noticing, though. Doctor Inez patched me up well, though I won't be wearing anything short and revealing for a while."

"That sucks." Hayes smiled. She enjoyed Ashley's company. "Damn thing, with shore leave coming up. Planning on anything special?"

"I'm actually going to see my niece for the first time." Ashley replied. "My sister Sarah's just had a baby."

"Oh! Congratulations." Hayes racked her memory. "Sarah's the one married to a Marine, right?"

"Uh-huh," Ashley was pleased that Hayes remembered this. "Thomas is stationed on Demeter. Introduced the two of them after the whole Geth invasion."

"Nice of you to mention the Geth, Ashley. I wanted to talk about that."

"Uh-oh." Ashley straightened up in her seat.

"Don't worry, Ash. I won't bite." Hayes chuckled. "You've served with Commander Shepard when the Geth attacked the Citadel, right?"

"Yes, ma'am. I joined the Normandy when Shepard was investigating the Prothean Beacon on Eden Prime."

"How would you describe the Commander?"

Ashley paused, collecting her thoughts. Her men always asked about Shepard. She would talk about their adventures together, and the men were all suckers for that. It always brought back good memories of the time on the Normandy, but always stopped short after the incident above Alchera.

"She was a great leader, ma'am." Ashley replied, fairly. "We've had our differences, but I respect her immensely."

"You two haven't had the best of relationships, I see." Hayes inquired.

"We had a rough start." Ashley admitted, "But we've resolved our differences."

"I've known Mess all her life, and she's definitely not a softy. I'm surprise you've been able to get along with her."

"What's up, ma'am. Why are you really asking me about Shepard?"

"Those reports about ... Reapers." Hayes let the dogs out, sitting forward, stapling her hands.

"I am ordered to reply," Ashley said hesitantly, "that there is no such thing, ma'am."

"I'm a fleet admiral, Ashley." Hayes smiled, but not with her eyes. "I've read the unabridged reports."

"Well, ma'am, I'm not sure." Ashley gave up. "I've been on Virmire, ma'am. The Council had asked us to extract an STG group investigating after Saren. I wasn't with Shepard when she encountered the machine sentience 'Sovereign'. Wrex, the Krogan mercenary, and Doctor T'Soni usually accompanied her when she needed a strike team. I was assigned to lead Aeghor team of the Salarian STG strike team, while the Turian, who usually doubled for Shepard, had taken the Quarian mechanic for tactical support for Mannovai Team. We didn't encounter any machine sentience, AI or VI, ma'am."

"You weren't with her on Ilos?"

"Again," Ashley still seemed a bit disgruntled about her experience on the Normandy. "the Commander was accompanied by Doctor T'Soni and the Turian."

"This was after Lieutenant Alenko's death?"

"Yes, ma'am." Ashley looked away. "Lieutenant Alenko was guarding the nuke. Shepard ordered him to set it off."

"What happened?"

Ashley seemed to struggle with the memory. "Geth stormed him, ma'am." she replied tersely.

Hayes quickly changed the subject. "So, you can't confirm whether Saren was being controlled by the Reapers or not?"

"Saren was being controlled by the Reapers, ma'am." Ashley nodded affirmatively.

"But you have no proof." Hayes noted.

"No, I haven't." Ashley sighed. She had been through this several times. Especially following the Battle of the Citadel.

"After the Battle, Shepard asked you to join her search for these... Reapers."

"Doctor T'Soni and Shepard came up with an idea that with Dark space devoid of Eezo, the Reapers would need heavy supplies of Eezo once they come storming through the Mass Relays. T'Soni suggested the Alchera system which had untapped amount of waste Eezo."

"But you weren't convinced-"

"I was convinced, ma'am. I still am convinced that the Reapers are out there." Ashley flared up for a second before catching herself. "I still think they're out there."

"But you're not convinced Shepard's on the right track."

"The Alchera system was a dud. Then Shepard went AWOL, only to turn up two years later alive and well, working for Cerberus, claiming that the Collectors were pawns of the Reapers."

"Sounds a bit far fetched." Hayes shrugged.

"I mean, really?" Ashley agreed. "She goes missing, turns up without a scratch. Works for Cerberus, and expects me to fall in line with her against another goose chase. The Collectors are organics. I've seen them on Horizon. They're nothing like the Reapers."

Hayes nodded, satisfied with what she heard.

"I have a special mission for you, Ash."


	19. Ashley

**Ashley**

- May, 2186

The visit to Sarah's had not gone well; Ashley had been preoccupied with the special assignment. Thomas had been at home as well, for a brief shore leave to see his daughter. To her annoyance, Thomas had suggested naming her 'Messalina', which Ashley shot down.

"I thought you wanted that, Ashley." Abby was home from her flight attendant job aboard a civilian liner, and still in uniform when the sisters all gathered around the baby. Abby had also wanted to join the Services, but after Dad's death, she opted for civilian life.

The baby was such a small thing, cradled in one arm, she was still pinkish, and sleeping.

"Shepard's incarcerated." Ashley replied, turning to Thomas and Sarah. "I think you'd want to refrain from naming your daughter after someone who's under arrest."

"That's bull, Ashley." Thomas shook his head. "Everyone knows that Shepard did the right thing."

"Emily Wong wrote a lengthy article criticizing the Alliance's arrest of Commander Shepard. I've scrapped it for you, if you're interested." Sarah offered.

"Emily Wong would sing praises of Shepard's grace even if she'd seen her dancing." replied Ashley, dryly.

"I would have thought you'd be the first one defending her, Ash." Thomas shrugged.

"Not sure who she is anymore." Ashley spoke to herself.

* * *

"Welcome aboard, Lieutenant Commander Williams." The synthetic voice chimed as Ashley entered the familiar yet different interior of the SR-2 Normandy. Synthetic voices annoyed Williams to no end. What was the point of keeping a VI door keeper for a battleship? Besides, the Normandy was undergoing security rehaul. It had been in dry docks, taken apart, put back together over and over again as the Alliance engineers scrutinized the Cerberus designs.

A young deck officer hurried over to greet her.

"Specialist Samantha Traynor, ma'am." She was carrying a stack full of data clips that clattered to the floor as she saluted. Ashley bent down and helped her collect them. "I'm here overseeing the Alliance systems retrofit of the onboard ship functions."

"What's with the VI?" Ashley jerked her thumb in the general direction.

"Oh, EDI?" Samantha seemed to brighten up. "She's the ship's weapons and navigation assistant VI. Isn't she the smoothest thing?"

Ashley stared at the younger woman. "You don't get out much, do you?"

They walked down the aisles of consoles. The ship was larger than the SR-1. Specs had showed about twice the length.

"Command didn't exactly specify what you were here for ma'am." Traynor ventured.

"Investigating, kid." Ashley reached the door which she had assumed had opened to the stairwell, but was surprised to find a corridor extending farther into the ship.

"That leads to the new 'War Room', ma'am." Traynor explained. "It's a new tactical setup fitted with Quantum entanglement communicators."

"Pretty heavy stuff for just a frigate."

"Oh!" Traynor seemed miffed. "The Normandy's not just simply a frigate. It's practically a cross between your smaller... well Normandy class frigate, you know the SR-1-"

"Yeah, been there." Ashley shrugged, looking around, and finding her way to the elevators.

"-And a cruiser. But far more advanced than either. She's decked out with bleeding edge technology, Thanix cannons, cyclonic barriers-"

"Uh, huh." Ashley entered the elevator, hoping to lose Traynor, but the young woman hopped on, chattering.

"-And of course, the most awesome VI I've ever met."

Ashley squinted at her. "You're really into female synthetic voices, or just the Normandy VI?"

That shut her up. Ashley flicked on the omni tool to locate the mainframe, which seemed to lead her across the med bay, to what would usually have consisted of Liara's room back on the SR-1. Samantha Traynor was now tagging along anxiously.

"Are you following me, Specialist?" Ashley turned sharply, scrutinizing the girl.

"Well they did tell me to help you around the ship."

"Who's 'they'?" Ashley squinted.

"Admiral Hackett-"

Ashley pushed Traynor out of the Med bay and locked the door behind her. It was jarring to be on the 'new' Normandy. The old ship had so many memories. It was her first major battle, and for her her career had been coasting along smoothly. She had told herself several times that it was just good judgement. Shepard's reckless behavior had placed the entire Normandy crew in jeopardy over Alchera. The Normandy had been her first ship, and now it was dead and replaced by this Cerberus contraption.

Just like Shepard.

Well, she was here to find out just how deep Cerberus went.

"Computer, open the Core."

To her annoyance the computer blocked her entry.

"I am sorry, Lieutenant Commander Williams. Access to the Core is restricted to-"

"I have authorization from both the Second fleet command to which this ship is impounded, as well as the Disciplinary Council to which its former CO is subject to. I can well blast a hole in this ship and drill my way through if that suits you, better."

There was a hesitant pause, which was odd, before opening, "Access granted."

There was something weird going on. Ashley's hunches screamed at her as she entered the Core with heightened suspicion.

"I want all files concerning project 'Lazarus'."

Unbeknownst to Ashley, the ship began sending a series of simple binary codes to an encrypted address "01001000/01000101/01001100/01010000".

* * *

"How you doing, LC?"

Ashley had been poring over the data concerning Shepard's resurrection. The data had been run through the analysts a billion times over, but the issue had still remained unresolved: Was Messalina Shepard the woman she claimed to be?

The Lazarus data, compiled by one Miranda Lawson, was clear and succinct. Cerberus had received Shepard's body via Liara T'Soni. Clone parts were substituted only in forms of stem cells programmed with termination sequences to self destruct once their assistant functions were completed. No whole organs or tissues were used. Hence Messalina was truly Messalina constructed from the cell up. Ashley shrugged; Whatever the lingo, the Alliance scientists were satisfied that Shepard's body was indeed Shepard's body.

What mattered was still up for grabs: Whether Shepard's mind was still her own. And the person who had just overruled her security lock down of the Core to intrude upon her investigations was just the person she wanted to see.

"Joker," Ashley flashed a predatory grin as she stalked over to the young man in the wheel chair, surrounded by security guards.

"Uh-oh." Joker replied, dryly. "I was expecting something like, 'how'd you get in here?' Or, 'Joker!', more happily. But just 'Joker', like that makes me think that you were expecting I'd come running."

"You can leave him with me, boys." Ashley excused the guards.

"No! Don't go, fellas." Joker hollered after them. "She's going to cripple me."

"Get out of the wheel chair, Joker." Ashley glared at him. "I know you can walk."

Joker waited until the guards were out of the room before he got out of his chair. "Do you know how awkward it is for those goons to trail me around doing nothing? Better to have them push my divan, you know? Also it tends to accentuate my disability, which is good when I'm called in for trial. Gains a lot of sympathy points."

"Yeah, really funny." Ashley smiled. "So is your illegal AI."

Joker nearly stumbled back wards, which would have actually cause him to get crippled again.

"She's not an AI." he defended weakly.

"No kidding." Ashley slowly began pushing Joker towards the wall. "Secret's safe with me, Joker. That's not what I'm here for. But if you want, that COULD be what I'm here for."

Joker visibly gulped.

"How you been, Ash?"

Ashley let him go, sitting down on floor as Joker eased himself to a position across her, but out of arms length.

"Fine, you know, same old same old." Ashley shrugged. "Doctor Chakwas seems to be off the hook. Not so lucky in your case."

"Tell that to Shepard." Joker's face twisted into disgust. "She saves the Galaxy and now they're punishing her for it."

"Tell me about it." Ashley agreed.

"Yeah, right." Joker shrugged.

"No. I mean: TELL me about it." Ashley shifted emphasis.

"Don't tell me you're agreeing with them!" Joker shouted. "After all we've been through!"

"All you've been through, Joker." Ashley replied, her vague anger at being left out of the Normandy resurfacing. "It was always Shepard and you, Shepard and Liara. Always planning and cooking things up. You never trusted me on anything. You made me cover for you when we were looking for the Reapers in the Omega Nebula, but Shepard never trusted me with sensitive information, did she?"

"Is that what this is all about?" Joker frowned. "Hell, yeah, she's never trusted you as much as she trusted Liara, or me, or Garrus, or Tali. Do you know why?"

Ashley boiled in anger.

"EDI," at Joker's prompt a globe like holographic projection popped up.

"Yes, Jeff." The computer's voice had softened noticeably, no longer under the pretense of being a VI.

"EDI here is an AI." Joker continued addressing Ashley. "EDI, can you play back any conversations you had with Shepard?"

The recordings immediately ensued. Shepard's voice filtered through the speakers over their uncomfortable glaring.

"'Good job, EDI...'

'I won't know what to do without you...'

'You're an invaluable member of this crew...'

'You have to make decisions for yourself, EDI. It's a part of what's being, well, sentient...'

'You know if Joker keeps asking you to make moaning noises, you can always simulate it in his voice-"

"No, not that part." Joker cut EDI off.

"What do you want to tell me, Joker?" Ashley's face turned livid. "That she trusted the damn computer more than me?"

"That's not the point, Ash." Joker replied. "Shepard was open to everyone. She accepted cripples, Cerberus, turians, quarians, asari, salarians, AI, anyone with a semblance of rational thought ... and Wrex. Shepard could accept everyone if they believed they could work together. She never discriminated."

"She'd do that for anyone who followed her ideals." Ashley countered. "She never really changes her tune, does she? Either you follow her lead, or she ditches you."

"You know when we were going after Saren, Shepard would wait patiently through everything the Council threw at her. I'd used to bug her to terminate communications. Annoyed the hell out of me that those ingrates would question her actions. But she never did, did she? She always heard them out. Let them say what they wanted. That's what made her special, Ash. Don't tell me she ditched you for your views. You know what she told me after Horizon? She had Garrus and me up in the cabin. Garrus told me he wanted to shoot your face for what you said to the Commander."

"Why that skull faced-" But Joker shooed her down.

"Shepard defended you, Ashley. She said that she knew where that was coming from, and that she was sorry TO you. Not FOR you. She said she was sorry that she couldn't earn your trust, and she was sorry that she shut you away because... you know... Kaidan."

Ashley was silent.

"If you still think she's a mind controlled robot, I can vouch for her that she isn't. She's the same frustrating, all encompassing, leave-no-one-behind Space Jesus. She'll never hug you, because that's her thing. But she'll never leave you."

Ashley collected her data clips and got up without a word. Walking to the door she turned around one last time before she left. "Thanks, Jeff."

Joker looked on at the door closing after Ashley, deep in thought of his own. He hoped Ashley got the message. The two had always been bitter, but Jeff Moreau prided himself of his instincts.

"Shepard never said that, Jeff." EDI interrupted. "In fact, Vakarian, Shepard and you have never conversed following the incident on Horizon."

"I'm sure she wanted to, EDI." Joker replied, quietly. "That's what the Commander was like. She'd never talk about what she thought. But she always acted on it."

"Shepard actually commented about Lieutenant Commander Williams when she was alone in her cabin." EDI informed him.

"Oh? What did she say, EDI?" Joker asked, intrigued.

Shepard's voice replayed through the speakers.

"'Stuck up, bitch. Aim for the eyes, Boo.'"

Joker smacked his dry lips. "Yeah, let's keep that one a secret, EDI."

* * *

Ashley exited the Normandy, still thinking about Joker and Shepard. Hailing down a passing floater she made her exit.

"HQ." she directed the vehicle before patching up Admiral Hayes.

"I got what I came for, Admiral." Ashley reported as she exited the Normandy and entered the vast dry dock.

"Any conclusions?" Hayes's voice was mixed with static over the communications, but unmistakably anxious.

"No," Ashley shook her head. "Just a name. Miranda Lawson."


	20. Tank Bred

**Tank Bred**

- May, 2186

"Freeze!" Ashley had cornered her target to an empty apartment on Ilium. It had taken her well over the entire week and the target had proved difficult. But now that was at an end. "Hands where I can see them, Cerberus."

The target dropped her side arms and knelt to the floor, hands behind the back of her head. Ashley cautiously stepped towards her captive, kicking the gun away to the side, before advancing and locking thw wrists together with an omni-tool.

"Miranda Lawson, under the directive of Alliance Naval Intelligence, I place you under my custody for urgent and immediate questioning."

"You're slower than I expected." The woman quipped as Ashley pulled her up from the floor.

"Nobody's perfect, honey."

* * *

- _Two Weeks Ago_

The Shadow Broker never convened Council of any form. Nor maintained a permanent base.

Shadow was the mandate of its operations. Once in a while a Shadow Broker during succession would break from the mold, to collect an abode, tired from drifting between the darkness of the stars, and the void would close in to replace it with another. One was never free of the reaches of the Shadow. Some speculated that it was because of the Shadow Broker's omnipotent presence throughout all forms of society. Those who experienced first hand the dealing with the Shadow knew that the enticement of hidden information was too great, like opium, that those who had once tasted the cursed nectar could never be free.

Deep within the vast forests of crumbling buildings, Urdnot Wrex stood before the dark flickering screen.

"My scouts scoured the remains of the Weyrlock camp and found nothing." Wrex sounded tired. His camp had been able to gather enough females to produce a significant number of offspring. But that was boon came with a high price tag. Tensions were high as Wrex had to direct forces to police within the camps as well as against outer attachs for the females, numbering in merely a few thousand. In return, the few thousand females had shown dubious fertility. They had been able to produce a dozen children during the past two years. Ends simply did not meet. They required more females.

"However, the absence was telling." he continued. "We found remains of cells where females had been herded. Some were unaccounted for. Shepard believed that there must have been some females who survive."

"I have yet to hear a request, Urdnot." rumbled the Shadow Broker.

"We need any fertile female we can get."

"Your goal is misguided." The Shadow Broker stated. Which was odd, since as long as Wrex had dealing with the Shadow Broker merely maintained information as business. The connotations of an agenda troubled him.

"Huh?" Wrex was too perplexed to continue. He had figured that he would start bargaining with the Shadow Broker to attain the whereabouts of the females. It would have been the usual process. But something was different.

"You require the aid of the Salarian Mordin Solus." The Shadow Broker continued.

"This Mordin Solus... "Wrex scratched his head. "was a member of Shepard's Krannt. You wish to broker a trade between us?"

"Mordin Solus only wishes for redemption. I will direct him to you."

'Ah, so you wish to sell something I don't need.' Wrex determined.

"And why would I wish to accept this Salarian?" There was something fishy, somewhere. Out of the corner of his eye, he directed Darg to check if the signal was secure. Darg pounded the satellite dish desperately and returned a shrug. Wrex rolled his eyes. Darg will be beaten later.

"The Salarian can generate a cure based on Shepard's data. It is what you ultimately want, isn't it?"

Both of Wrex's hearts skipped beats at the same time.

"A cure? For what?" He tried to keep his trembling in check. But the Shadow Broker did not play to his patronizing question, remained silent.

"What do you want in return?" Wrex's stomachs turned knots.

"Aralakh Company."

* * *

Hannah's office was one of many small offices that lined the Alliance embassies on the Presidium. Due to the limited space of the Citadel, they had to cram as much space as possible together. Thankfully, the resident keeper expert on the Citadel, a Salarian named Chorban, was able to make arrangements to direct the keepers into ignoring the open balcony the engineers had installed. The open balconies were usually only a facet of the offices allotted to the upper echelon of the Admiralty, but the Salarian had insisted that he could engineer the keepers to keep away from modifying the structure.

"Usually they would randomly come and wreck the place, ma'am." Chorban explained excitedly. "But I've been able to block some of their signals. Commander Shepard helped me out a lot when I first jumped into investigating them, ma'am. It's such an honor to meet you."

Hannah found that she had never fully appreciated how much Messalina had affected the Galactic community. Having been bound up in the walls of the Orizaba for too long, she felt she had missed the general gist and atmosphere. Hannah shook Chorban's hand warmly and bid him farewell, as she enjoyed her open balcony.

Her office was still small, though. Milque's desk and hers faced each other with empty walls lining the rest. She imagined that the two of them could play table tennis the entire length of her so-called 'deployment', to which she had no illusions that it was nothing other than exile.

Chorban was replaced by Milque as the young man began setting up a series of encryption devices.

"Any trouble?" Hannah asked.

"The Shepard name is gold around here, Admiral." Milque chuckled. "I haven't had so many people stumbling over themselves to lend a hand. This baby here is from Sardonis Applications. You won't believe what I've heard when I went there: 'I'm Commander Shepard, and this is my favorite shop on the Citadel'. Hah! The owner, Marlab, practically gave this for free."

"Don't over do it, Milque. I don't want to attract any unnecessary attention." Hannah smiled, despite her concern. The other day, a couple had come over to shake her hand when she was identified by an automated advertisement booth. Whatever the Alliance had against her daughter, she wished they could come to the Citadel and smell the breeze.

Her asari 'daughter-in-law' had told her that she had some data she wished to show her. With nothing else to do, Hannah was anxious to run through whatever Liara had dug up on Mars.

"It's ... technical." Liara had informed her, frustrated. "I can leaf through some technical problems, due to my background in researching Prothean civilization, but this was too complex. I was wondering if you could take a look at it."

"Don't worry, honey." Hannah had assured her. "I started my career with Prothean technology when humanity was trying to figure things out."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Call me, 'mom'. If it's okay with you, dear."

"Thank you... Mom." Liara had blushed sweetly. It was nice to see a 'daughter' who actually acted like a girl, for once.

Messalina had never been a 'sweet' girl, though she did like her lemon drops. Of course, Messalina had told her that Liara was older than Messalina and Hannah combined. But in Hannah's eyes, a life-partner of her daughter was still a kid.

Besides the complexity of the data, and the compression of its format, the decryption also had to avoid detection from the roving eyes of the Fleet. When she first tried to open the data on her omni tool, its compression had emitted screeching gibberish. Liara had commented that, on a psychological level, that was what Messalina's mind had to go through when she first encountered the Prothean Beacon. The imagery of the burnt up omni tool remained charred in Hannah's memory since then.

"Okay, ma'am." Milque intruded her thoughts. "Set up is a go. Want me to leave?"

"No, Milque. You can stay. You've seen the Collectors at work. Maybe you can help shed some light." Hannah offered as they sat down before the projected holo interface. Hannah transferred Liara's data with the deftness of a savant, yet muttered, "I'm getting rusty."

The image finally crystallized before them, spinning slowly. It was an elongated cylindrical object. Its simplicity in design would have mistaken the uninitialized into thinking it was smaller, like a hand held device. But Hannah noticed the dimensions, and silently cursed to herself.

"It's huge." Hannah indicated the scale for Milque. Milque crumpled his brow, trying to grasp at the size.

"Is that in... meters?"

"Kilometers." corrected Hannah.

"Oh." Milque was silenced.

"We'll have our hand full going through these." Hannah grinned, excitement rushing over.

"Just you know, ma'am." Milque said weakly, "school work was never my forte."

* * *

Anto and his lieutenant Bray shoved their way through the underbelly of Omega, between the crowded streets and rotting Vorcha. Trailing behind them were three burly Krogans wearing the armor of the Blood Pack, hoisting modified Claymores with long serrated iron bayonets. Anto smelled something dirty when Ahz had dropped the three Krogan off rather than digging them up from the lower levels where the Blood Pack usually prowled.

Aria, as usual, hadn't offered any explanation. She seemed to have been growing restless lately. Tazzik had come by to see her the other day. And Anto knew the overly huge Batarian had always led a series of unfortunate events in his wake. The Blood Pack trio soon followed, and as head of operations for Aria's dominion, Anto hated being in the dark. He was given a description of a person, and after shaking down the locals, were able to find the woman matching the description. The Krogan were here to take her away. Anto prayed to his god to forgive his soul. Maybe he didn't want to know, after all.

The Krogan were larger than the usual riff-raff that gravitated towards the bowels of Omega. That and Aria allowed Anto no choice. He prided himself that he was a strong but fair enforcer. But today's job just didn't seem right.

When they reached the apartment the Krogans pushed him aside, shot the lock and barged in. These acts of violence were common in Omega. And the resident and target tried to resist. Anto was grateful for one thing that the Krogan wanted the woman alive. Stunned and subdued, the woman was bagged and hoisted over the shoulder of one of the trio.

Krogan shrugged a thanks and disappeared.

* * *

"Miranda!" The woman gasped as she woke up, focusing on the woman before her.

"See," the Grunt jumped off from the table. "undamaged."

Miranda studied the captive woman. "Her hair ... is not right. I think my father got the hair wrong with this one."

Mordin stepped forward, pulling a strand of hair off the captive. He pointedly stopped before Miranda, thrusting out an open palm. Miranda sighed and carefully pulled out a strand of hair, cautious not to ruffle her thick wavy flow.

"Thank you." Mordin shuffled off to process the two strands.

"Bitch!" The woman spat at Miranda's feet.

"So, there's two of you, eh?" Grunt's lieutenant Nax stared at the clone.

"She's the older version... obviously." Miranda scrutinized her clone.

"How many of them are there?" Nax walked around the captive, scrutinizing her. "Looks just like you, Miranda."

"Thirteen, Nax." Miranda bit her thumbnail. "She's a defective clone; nothing like me."

"Fifteen." corrected her clone.

"I'm not counting Oriana and me, if that's what you're implying, clone." Miranda replied icily.

"I have a name, sister. It's Heather."

"And I don't care what you call yourself." snapped Miranda. "You serve a purpose. I'm not your sister."

"It doesn't change the fact. Fifteen of us were created after our brother. Three of us are still alive."

Mordin returned in a matter of minutes.

"Mismatch of three alleles." Mordin informed Miranda. "Possibly fatal. Floppy atrioventricular valve and conduction defect, resulting in five percent drop of ejection fraction." Mordin scanned the two women again, correcting himself, "three point eight percent. Risk of aneurysm increased twenty percent. Risk of sudden cardiac death ten percent. Detected risk of malignant cervical growth forty percent." he turned to the captive, lowering his voice, "Apologies."

"Thank you, Doctor Solus." Miranda nodded. Mordin, finding his work done and not wishing to observe the interrogation, walked off to the adjoining room to pack.

Grunt seemed entirely uninterested.

"Tank bred." Grunt shrugged. "Some live, some die. Nothing to cry about."

"It matters," Miranda huffed. "when one of us decides its in their best interest to alert our Father to the where about of our sister."

"What was I supposed to do?" Heather pleaded. "After our psychopathic brother decided to kill of the defective sisters one by one, I was all that was left. Father caught up with me and demanded to know where you hid Oriana. It was me or her."

"Then you should have chose her." Miranda glared.

"Why should I choose her?" Heather spun around glaring up at Miranda. "What did she ever do for me?"

Miranda struck her sister with an open palm, cracking out in the uneasy watch of the Krogan commandos. Grunt yawned.

"That's for your treachery! Oriana is the reason we were created. If she falls into Father's hands, all our purpose of existence and freedom is for naught. Don't you get it, you imperfect twat?"

"What do you want with me, Miranda?"

Miranda pulled up a stool and sat down, looking down on her image in the flesh.

"I'm going to offer you a safe haven. Considering the ease at how I uncovered you, I assure you it'll take Father far less to hunt you down and process you to create a new clone."

The look of fear replacing anger so quickly told many stories of that neither Heather nor Miranda wished to revisit.

"I heard that Father went nearly broke... that he doesn't have the resources..." Heather ventured hopefully.

"He's offered himself to Cerberus, recently." Miranda informed her. "I assure you, he has everything he could need for his twisted experiments. And Cerberus, I can tell with you confidence, is his perfect bed fellow."

Heather sank down again. She had been on the run from her father ever since Miranda had liberated Oriana. Father had sent assassins to collect their bodies to recreate more clones; he had little use for them alive. Few of the surviving sisters had died, and Heather, in desperation, had informed Niket to where Oriana might have fled.

She wasn't like Miranda, who would probably live to reach a bicentennial year. She had a weak heart deformity that caused her some shortness of breath. If Miranda barely escaped their Father, she well knew the chances she had.

"You promised me a safe haven." Heather asked cautiously.

"I'm offering you a safe haven," Miranda corrected, "in return for a service."

"What sort of service?"

"There is a war coming." Miranda replied with steel in her eyes. "It's a war that will end all wars. But not everyone is willing to prepare for it. My Leader is currently held in prison, but her agents are many. We work to make humanity... and everyone else, survives. I require a certain degree of freedom for that. I can't have that with Alliance dogs on my tail at every turn. You're going to impersonate me."

"You want me to act as bait? You want me exposed in the open?" Heather snorted in derision.

"Not for long. If my sources are correct, this Alliance agent will be upon you in a matter of days. We'll make sure she captures you. You'll be then taken into secure custody. Far from the reaches of Henry Lawson."

"I seem to have gotten the short end of it." Heather scowled.

"I'm offering you your life, secure and safe. I'm also offering you my forgiveness. I'd be grateful." Miranda nodded at the group of Krogan, reminding her sister that she could have killed her if she wished.

Nax, the brains of the unit, began briefing Heather as the other Krogan, Charr, set about releasing her Omni-restraints.

"Where are you off to next, Grunt?" Miranda pulled her former shipmate aside.

"Ninmah cluster." Grunt grinned widely. "Shadow Broker thinks Rachni are building up. Can't have them running around when the Reapers hit."

"Rachni," Miranda shuddered. "Didn't Shepard run into them on Noveria?"

"The reports were hostile." Grunt shrugged. "Maybe Wrex is just getting paranoid. The deal is that we check out the Rachni, and you drop off Mordin on ... " Grunt scratched his head.

"Sur'Kesh." Miranda supplied.

"Yeah." Grunt nodded gravely, as Miranda tried to suppress a smile. "You be careful. I read there are dinosaurs in those jungles. They eat Salarians, and humans, too, I think."

"No, Grunt." Miranda replied, dead pan. "There are no dinosaurs on Sur'Kesh."

Grunt seemed disappointed. A sudden epiphany hit him. "Hey, don't we know the Shadow Broker?"

Miranda squinted at Grunt. "Yes, Grunt. Some of us do."

"How come Wrex doesn't know who ... she, right?... How come Wrex doesn't know who she is."

"Well, I suppose no one's really told him, then." Miranda shrugged. "It's not something you go around broadcasting."

Grunt's smile widened. "Heh, heh, heh."

Miranda warily glossed over Grunt, placed a concerned hand on his thick arms as if asking a child difficult questions. "You know the importance of keeping things secret, right, Grunt?"

"Yeah, Secret." Grunt nodded gravely.

* * *

_DEEr CLANn LeEder,_

_UrDot Nax and UrNot Charr aNd Me Have CapTURRed the fAKe mrIandA._

_MiRAnda tOOK Mordin to ... SALAria._

_I hoPe they doNt run INto TeRRAnoSAuRUses. _

_i BEt you DonT knoW who THe ShadoW BROKEr is._

_Some BOSS you ARe! HaHAHA_

_sHEPPURD killeD the SHAdow BrokEr and Put HER feMAle in CHARge. __iDIOt._

_AraLaK kRANt _

_uRnOT GRUNT Owt!_


	21. Imperfection

**Imperfection**

- May, 2186

Off-worlders, aliens and Spacers always were surprised at the continuous downpour of rain in the area. Visitors who only sought Earth on military business to Vancouver super-city left with skewed impression of its weather. The Captive seemed bewildered, at least. The Cerberus Operative had been docile the entire time she was transported to Earth. Ashley had been expecting some fall back, but except for a few mercenary Vorcha who tried to interfere, the transport from Omega had gone relatively smoothly. The Intelligence wetwork squad had rendezvoused with her as soon as she cleared Omega's firing range, and the Kilimanjaro had ferried her directly to Earth non-stop.

It was good to be planet side again.

Admiral Hayes had been overjoyed at her success in acquiring the Cerberus official behind Shepard's Lazarus project. Shepard's trial had been stalling for six months now with the question remaining unresolved whether it was Shepard, an impostor, or whether she had been conditioned. Admiral Hayes had invited her in to observe the proceedings.

Ashley had stopped by Kaidan Alenko's empty grave on the way. She always tried to visit his grave when she was in Vancouver. She was never able to visit his parents. After the Battle of the Citadel Shepard had visited them by herself. Shepard had asked if she would like to go, but Ashley couldn't find the courage. Since then, whenever she visited Earth, Ashley would make plans, buy flowers, bring pictures, prepare stories to share, and would ultimately find herself in her cups. She had been drinking more lately. Especially when she was on leave, Ashley would drink every day; first it had been just a beer before bed, and later the cups remained the same but the liquor became stronger, yet sleep became more fleeting.

"Weather control is a myth," Admiral Hayes greeted Ashley as she escaped the rain into the main entrance of the Naval Intelligence HQ.

"I heard that terraforming is easier." Ashley panted, as she shook the rain from her hair. "How's the Captive? A bit more talkative, ma'am?"

"I can safely say that she spoke more to you than she spoke to us since you handed her over." Hayes grimaced.

* * *

_- Two weeks ago_

Miranda and Heather Lawson sat down in their empty apartment on floor cushions in their Omega apartment. Courtesy of Aria T'Loak, the room was devoid of comfort, sporting only a string of bunk beds and portable cooking utensils. The Aralakh had left to hunt for the Rachni; though gruff and hardened warriors, they couldn't contain their excitement. They were all experienced warriors, even for Krogan. More settled down with family, and firmly rooted in the Urdnot Revolution that was now brewing. Both Nax and Charr were married to asari, while other members also sported a firm relationship with Krogan females on Tuchanka. One of the group even boasted of an offspring. Miranda considered that it was shrewd of Wrex to somehow have elevated his strongest special missions group. It was standard tactics of leaders to drag the toughest through toils and hardships, then reward their troubles with gifts and comforts to rationalize what made them who they were. Of course, the exception was Grunt, who had been born to be a leader.

Birthright. It seemed to be a crutch now. Like Grunt, Miranda was born to be a leader. Perfect and crystalline. Yet, if anyone were to ask her who she was, she would say without hesitation that she was Messalina Shepard's second in command. Like Grunt, who served Wrex, those born in to leadership sometimes failed to achieve their full potential. Unlike Grunt, Miranda had settled into her role as the executive of Shepard's affairs.

Some say that Shepard had mellowed through the years, that she had grown attached to the persons she had surrounded herself with. Miranda would liked to have thought that Shepard considered her one of her friends. But Miranda knew that Shepard had laid out her pieces like a genius tactician. All of Shepard's key members had coordinated themselves to key positions to prepare for her return. Back on Ilium, Shepard had expressed her firm plan of action in her absence. Garrus, as the key to persuading the Turians; Wrex to rally the Krogan; Tali to keep the Quarians from destroying themselves. While none of them knew they were being moved into place, Liara and Miranda had orchestrated an action plan to shuffle them along the road. While Miranda had voiced doubts on Tali's ability to keep the Admirals at bay, Shepard had told her that she didn't believe everyone will succeed at their objectives but it was the least they could do.

"... Current Heart condition, likely to deteriorate within the next five years." Mordin had informed Miranda and Heather. "Compounding risk of aneurysm, also likely to develop. Cannot state for certain what asari meld will do. Severe blood pressure elevation likely, must administer preemptive adrenergic blockers."

"I will be gentle, Mordin." Samara put her cloak on the table as she seated herself between Miranda and Heather.

"Will maintain close observation, just in case." Mordin seated himself behind Samara, waving at the air to produce a pair of medical drones that hovered in behind each sister.

Samara sat cross legged and breathed deeply. "The meld will perform more smoothly if both participants are willing. Are you willing to join with Miranda, Heather Lawson?"

Heather nodded without replying. She had some difficulty coming to terms with Mordin's diagnosis, but she had always known that she would not live beyond forty. Her sisters, despite having been decapitated by their insane brother, had been deteriorating rapidly as they turned thirty five, some earlier. Unlike Miranda she had been relegated to kept under watch, studied for further appearances of defective phenotypes, pricked and prodded until the whole of them had escaped. It had been Miranda's doing, after she had discovered her clone sisters, she had engineered a plan to liberate everyone from their Father's clutches. And it had succeeded for a while. But the clone sisters were relatively poorly educated, frail and ultimately became a burden to Miranda. They soon became prey to life, and then to their brother.

Heather felt the cool touch of the Asari on her temples.

"Embrace Eternity." came the distant soothing voice, as she drifted off.

* * *

Heather felt herself become a spectator to the play of Miranda's life. The terrors of uncovering the hidden cells lined with copies of her, deteriorating and aging.

A small girl walked past the line of cells, dressed in a smart uniform like dress, clutching tightly a ring of biometric mimicry tools. The girl stopped before the cells, frightened as she looked at the older women. When one of the more mindless women gnashed at the plate glass, the frightened girl scampered off further down the aisle.

Then came the vats of unborn fetuses, some deformed and pulsing, others growing tenderly in the warm amniotic fluid. At the end stood a solitary vat that held a full formed baby. Heather knew instinctively that it was Oriana, the ultimate incarnation of Miranda, drifting in deep slumber. The vat had been simply numbered "Miranda V 2.1".

"Do you like what you see, Miri?" A sudden voice appeared from the shadows. Heather recognized the voice. It belonged to their brother, the eunuch, Marcus. Miranda didn't turn to face him, but he walked up and gripped her shoulder, spinning her around.

"Do you like what you see, Miri?"

Miranda's eyes were filled with terror, lips trembling, unable to speak. "Where's Father?"

"Does Daddy know that little Miri is in the vats?" Marcus cackled.

"Father will kill you if you hurt me." the young Miranda hissed, with venomous spite uncharacteristic of a sweet sixteen.

"Oh, I'm not going to hurt you." Marcus stalked over to one of the fetal vats. He produced a small syringe from his pocket.

"What-"

Ignoring her, he injected the full amount into the receiver. The two of them watched as plumes of violet wrapped about the fetal form as it twitched violently.

"Perfection." Marcus hissed. "I only found this vat a few years ago. It's so difficult to reach with all his cronies watching my every move. It's his obsession, and now it's become mine. I'm going to make them Purrfect."

"Stop!" Miranda shouted. A small alarm went off from the vat that he had injected his syringe.

"Time to go, Miri." Marcus began walking away. "Daddy won't like it if he's found you've been playing with his toys."

* * *

Life blurred away as Heather found herself in a dark alley. Ran dripping from the rails, sputtering down to the dirty streets. She couldn't smell anything, but dank sweat. It must be what Miranda had been smelling.

A man was on his knees, trembling, head bowed low. At his neck a long katana extended to the grip of another man, artful in his pose as he held the blade lightly with finesse. The sword bearer, handsome with a thick mane of hair dragged into a loose pony tail wore a smirk of derision. In his other hand he held a projector which beamed the presence of a well groomed gentleman with shimmering eyes.

"Miss Lawson." the sandy voice interrupted the silence. "Kai Leng tells me that this is all you need. An interesting bargain, if I may say so."

"I don't see his head rolling." Miranda appeared from behind Heather, now full grown, beautiful, walking with precise and calculated steps. Miranda looked down at the figure huddled on the ground, reached down and grasped a handful of his hair before abruptly jerking it upwards.

It was Marcus, his face was skewed and broken, but Marcus nevertheless.

"Miri!" Marcus screamed. "Please. Don't do this!"

Miranda nodded at the assassin and turned away. Heather could not see the action, probably because Miranda did not witness the act of decapitation.

"I am pleased to see that you are everything they told me about." the hologram smiled.

"And what is that?"

"Perfection." the hologram shimmered into a wisp.

The assassin booted over the decapitated body, tumbling it sideways.

"The shuttle is in the back, Lawson." The assassin walked past her. "Welcome to Cerberus."

* * *

Life blurred away into a mixture of feelings, troubles and anxieties. Heather watched as stars exploded, Quarian life ships crashed, and ships roar above her in glittering star beams.

She found herself in the vats again. This time filled with women whom she didn't recognize. They all bore the same face, about half a dozen of them. It was a sterile lab room. Unlike Father's dark metallic dungeon, it was clean and white. The logo of the three headed dog, orange and black, plastered sparsely. The man from the hologram stood there in the flesh, observing the slab where a charred and burnt corpse lay.

The assassin was with him again, his sword drawn, lazily circling the floor, etching marks with a quiet scraping noise. Miranda and a bald man stood next to the slab, while a dark skinned woman held the restraints of one of the clones from the vat.

The woman, one of the clones, seemed sedated and drowsy, but still managed to struggle against the restraints. She was skinny and pasty white. Dark hair tied into a pony tail. Through the drug haze the woman managed to flash a venomous look with her green eyes.

"Not good enough, Agent Lilium." It was the leader from the hologram. His unmistakable sandy voice. The leader, whom Heather could now see, actually had weird shining eyes, which roved up and down the struggling woman.

"I don't see why not, sir." Agent Lilium appraised the clone with a cold English accent that betrayed no fondness for the product. "She is in every sense Commander Shepard."

"It's not all there, now, is it?" The leader tapped his temple.

"But she's the perfect specimen." Agent Lilium persisted. "I've corrected all the defects. She's faster, stronger and smarter than Shepard would ever be."

"I don't want a 'better' Shepard, Agent Lilium." the Leader turned away. "Despite my misgivings, none of your 'perfect' clones were able to best Leng. None of your 'perfect' clones were able to survive the 'maze', either. I have a string of corpses and no results. Something is not there."

"She can be trained." Agent Lilium defended her product.

The assassin smirked behind the leader.

"Stop scratching my floor, Leng." Miranda snapped. Miranda replied instead of the leader. "We don't need a clone, Agent Lilium. We need the genuine Commander Shepard."

"That's impossible." the bald man, behind Miranda, stammered.

"It has simply never been done before." Miranda shrugged, then turning to the leader. "But it is possible."

"And what of these clones." Agent Lilium asked, exasperated.

"Use them for spare parts." shrugged the Leader. Somehow, sensing danger, the clone suddenly jerked up from her seat, knocking Agent Lilium to the floor. The clone then bolted to the door, but was soon tripped by the assassin, who deftly plunged his blade into her back.

Miranda frowned in disgust.

"Don't do that again." the Leader warned the assassin.

The assassin shrugged and sheathed his weapon as blood began to pool on the floor.

"Miss Lawson," the Leader turned to Miranda. "Begin project Lazarus. Use these clones for parts if you need to. But I want Shepard back alive from the dead. Not from some vat. Understood?"

"Of course, sir." Miranda smiled. "I don't like vats."

* * *

Heather now found her self in empty space. Death was closing in on her. She dreamed of her funeral, no one attending her grave but Miranda.

"What is perfection, Miri?" Heather sighed, her body began to crumble to dust as she spoke.

"Perfection is a myth, Heather." Miranda replied. Somehow, Heather sensed that she was talking to the actual Miranda, no longer a construct of memory. "I don't think it actually exists."

Heather was crumbling to ashes, flakes of her falling away.

"Aren't you perfect, Miranda?" Heather wished Miranda was perfect. All her life she lived as an imperfection, knowing her younger siblings would always outlast her. It had been a jealous thought, but it had been her faith nonetheless. But before her eyes, Miranda also began to crumble, slowly becoming dust.

"Of course, I am." Miranda smiled. "So are you."

* * *

- May, 2186

Major Antella nodded at Admiral Hayes and Ashley Williams as they entered the observation room.

"Caleb Antella, Admiral." Major Antella saluted Hayes. He shook hands with each of them, before indicating the large screen that showed Miranda Lawson in restraints. "Good job, Lieutenant Commander."

"Thank you, sir." Ashley nodded. "Do you think we can get to the bottom of this?"

Antella nodded, confidently. "I've been looking into Shepard's alleged 'resurrection', since she first turned up on our scopes last year. I've contacted Admiral Hackett immediately, but I've been blackballed from investigating further. And then the Bahak system was wiped off the maps."

"This is a highly trained Cerberus agent, Major." Hayes advised caution. "We may never get another chance if you break her too much."

"It would be easier if we could just use some of our tools on Shepard." Antella advised. "I assure you, that is the best way to be certain."

"Don't you dare." Ashley flared up a moment, unable to contain herself.

"Woah!" Antella held up his hands. "You've got a Shepard-ist here, Admiral. You think it wise to let her in on this?"

"I personally vouch for Ash." Hayes nodded sincerely. "But interrogating Shepard is out of the question. She is still seen as a hero among the people, especially the aliens. I don't want to cause a political mess by releasing a slobbering shell back to her mother."

"Understood, Admiral." Antella got up and entered the interrogation room.

"Ma'am?" Ashley asked Hayes cautiously.

"Don't worry Ash. We won't harm Shepard." Hayes replied. "But I want you to set your priorities straight. You have no idea how much I hold Messalina Shepard dear to my heart. She was like a grand-daughter to me."

Hayes's voice tinged with some semblance of regret, as she exhaled deeply.

"But I hold the Alliance dearer." Hayes's eyes returned to a steely coldness that even Ash had never seen. "I can't have an unprincipled rogue running around the Galaxy taking matters into her own hand. Whether she is a clone, or a mind controlled Cerberus agent, or just her plain old self, Messalina Shepard has become a liability to the safety and security of humanity."

Ashley was taken aback, stunned. "You're not seeking the truth?"

Hayes turned on the young officer grimly. "What is the truth, Ash? You don't know even half the truth."

Hayes turned back to the interrogation, as Antella began injecting truth serum into the subject.

"She was a mistake." Hayes whispered cryptically.


	22. Guilt

**Guilt**

- June, 2186

Miranda sat in a darkened room, back on Omega. Everyone had left. She had dropped Mordin off at the port, where he assured her he could make it safely to Sur'Kesh. His protege, Padok Wiks, had arrived on time and Mordin was barely out in the open for a second or two.

Liara had called to inform her Heather was dead.

They had miscalculated on her chances, and her heart had broke.

"I'm sorry... Heather." Miranda whispered to herself. She had forgotten to switch off the terminal, and the room was filled with buzzing noises that, allegedly, caught the noise from the Big Bang.

Liara had been worried that perhaps Alliance Intelligence, now out of options, would now proceed to interrogate Shepard with similar methods. Or did she think that? Miranda wasn't sure. She determined that it hadn't been Liara, but just another part of her mind that had remained functioning. The rest of her had shut down into a numbed silence.

"I'm sorry..." She whispered again.

Henry Lawson's Cerberus goons had invaded and burned her hideout on Ilium. He was closing in. Miranda knew she couldn't stay on Omega much longer. But she still couldn't move a muscle.

* * *

"How are things going... Mother?" Liara winked at Hannah sheepishly.

Hannah had bought bagels on her way to her offices. Milque, proving to be totally inept in helping her with her data, busily began toasting and buttering them. The smell of melting butter filled her offices. A small scale model replicated from the actual materials indicated in the ancient alien blue-prints sat on the desk.

"I'll send you some writings that I need deciphering, honey." Hannah received a cup of coffee from Milque, nodding to thank him. "I've sent you the power schematics, last night. Did you take a look?"

"Yes, Mother." Liara replied.

"'Mom'." Hannah corrected. "'Mother' is what Mess would call me when she was angry."

"Yes, Mom." Liara laughed. "I've already looked over the schematics. But the power is enormous. Nothing has ever been built like that."

Hannah indicated her surroundings, waving a hand around her. "Citadel, honey. The Citadel produces that much power. I think the design implies that the damned thing docks with the Citadel. It'll drain the power from it, as well, but augmenting it into quantum cycles to exponential levels."

Liara gasped at the implications.

"But the output would be enormous!" Liara figured the numbers in her head. "The energy alone is greater than a supernova."

"I may be a bit off on the actual numbers." Hannah shrugged. "But that's the vicinity of energy we're talking about. The form of energy, is what's curious. It's not exactly a beam cannon, you know."

Liara nodded, absorbing her words.

"I have a suspicion that even the Protheans were not sure of what it would do. There is little in the writings that actually refers to its purpose."

"Another thing is," Hannah continued. "You can't aim the damned thing. It funnels energy through the Citadel, but all I can say is that it'll randomly transmit to another receiver source of the same form of energy. Can't say what that is yet until I can identify what sings to its tune."

Liara hurriedly finished taking notes.

"How do you like it on Mars, honey?" Hannah asked.

"It's red." Liara sighed, which elicited a laugh from Hannah.

"I remember it being... a bit reddish." Hannah nodded. "I hope the food's gotten better. Messalina used to train on Mars during her N2 rotation. She wasn't very fond of the food, either."

"Everyone has been very helpful, Mom." Liara chirped happily. "It has been a more cooperative than what I have yet to experience from the Alliance until now."

"That's a relief." Hannah smiled. "I bet they're falling over themselves having the pre-eminent Prothean expert in their midst."

"Almost everyone." A look of concern passed over Liara's face. "There's been a new member recently arrived from Earth. A Doctor Eva Core. I haven't been able to find her credentials in academia. My other ... sources... have also failed to uncover anything."

Hannah furrowed her brows.

"Eva Core... The name is ... familiar." she replied faintly. "I've heard of it before."

Hannah's memory failed to grasp the significance immediately, remaining quiet. It was a distant name, something from a conversation reaching as far back to when John was still alive. She had buried most of the memories from back then, and now it was so safely hidden away that she found it difficult retrieving them.

"I'll try looking into it." Hannah assured Liara. "But I don't think it's anything good. Be careful, honey."

"Yes, Mom."

"Any news from Mess?" Hannah asked finally, hopefully. But Liara's eyes were sad, and both knew they needed no words. "Okay, honey. Take care of yourself."

"Good bye, Mom." Liara waved before signing off.

* * *

"Messalina Shepard."

Shepard had been keeping herself occupied by reading. She had been an avid reader when she was young, before she left home for the Marines. Naturally the rigorous work of the marine grunt never allowed for her to catch up on her literature, and it was only until Ashley had started quoting Tennyson like an infatuated little girl that Messalina thought of returning to her books. James had carted over stacks of reading material which Messalina had hungrily devoured. She had expected it was James with a fresh cart of books, when Admiral Emily Hayes entered the room.

Messalina got up, excitedly and embraced her warmly.

"Em!" Shepard, hungry for any company other than James, let the Admiral over to her table. "How have you been? How long have you been on Earth?"

"I just got here from Arcturus, Mess." Hayes lied, smiling warmly as she seated herself.

"How's the Second?" Messalina asked, reaching for the coffee pot which she had dripping cold Dutch Coffee. She offered the rare essence to Hayes. "Try this."

Hayes tasted the stark bitterness of the cup and set it down. "Change of taste, Mess?"

Messalina grinned, dog-earing her book before setting it down.

"I've began to enjoy the bitterness in life." Messalina shrugged, with a mischievous grin.

"Huh," Hayes snorted. "I've heard the Citadel released a formal statement." Hayes informed her, "they said, quote, Spectre Messalina Shepard is an operative of the Council and acted in authority to its intergalactic laws, end quote."

"That's it?" Messalina arched her eyebrows.

Hayes shrugged. "We've repeatedly asked them to state their position on the Bahak incident, but they simply replied with that same message again. I'm not sure if they're defending you or not."

Messalina poured herself a cup.

"Any word from Mom?"

Hayes shook her head. "Hannah's been taking research seriously. Hadn't been responding to my calls, lately. Frankly, I deserve it. I've tried to calm her down after your whole trial started catching flames. She seemed upset about your actions. If you'd like, I'd pass on a letter if you want to talk to her."

Messalina's face froze in her smile for a fraction of a second. Hayes, set down her cup, only to turn to see Messalina's face had suddenly turned frigidly cold.

"Indeed." Messalina replied. Her voice had changed. It was deep and husky, slightly dripping of dark bitterness.

"Mess?" Hayes prodded cautiously.

"I've hated my mother all my life, Hayes." Messalina kicked back, folding her arms. "But I assure you, I know her better than anyone else. Especially more than an old woman who's never had a family before. Blood runs thick, you know?"

"Commander Shepard-" Hayes glared, provoked by the sudden disrespect.

"It's just Shepard, Hayes." Messalina replied, coolly. "I've been discharged, remember? Or did you forget that you were the one who petitioned for it."

"How-?"

"I worked Intel all my life, Hayes." Messalina interrupted. "You think you have me cornered in a cage, segregated from life. You forget that I have a Window. I've seen you coming in and out of this building for weeks. I've seen you talking to Ashley Williams. Do you think for a moment that I'm your average little rank-whipped subordinate?"

Hayes was suddenly aware at how different Messalina seemed. She had never seen her like this before. Briefly, she wondered if this was the face that her enemies had looked at before they died. Indeed, Messalina had carried the six months of solitary confinement like no one else. While Hayes had been distracted by drilling the investigation, she had forgot that Messalina had not crumbled for a moment under the isolation. A fearful thought entered her mind; had Messalina been grinding her knife all through the six months, never relaxing for an instance? The person before her seemed like a captive, not harrowed through months of isolation, but freshly caught in the wild. The eyes shown with predatory hunger.

"I've pieced together the problem, Hayes." Messalina continued. "The problem is you. Council pardon, Hackett's vouching, Anderson's pleas all fall short. Mikhailovich is an idiot. He could never orchestrate anything. But you. You're different. You're the Master of the Second. The hero of Shanxi. But you're more than that aren't you, grandmother?"

Hayes felt her heart almost stop, freezing in place. Her skin seemed to shrink, pilar muscles contracting to goose bumps.

"You... you knew?" Hayes stammered.

"It's taken some time." Messalina nodded. "I've suspected it for some time. I was curious why you would take such an interest in me. I always thought it was because you were such a loner, and Hannah was such a bright and endearing person, eh? But Hannah's never been anything but frigid to almost everyone. I've seen closely what sort of people are easy on you. They're the usual loud mouthed brash and charismatic bunch... like Ashley. Not anything like the Shepard girls, right? So, what sort of person, being a superior officer, would take such a personal liking to her subordinate, beyond anyone else? Your attachment to Hannah was extraordinary. You fluttered about her like, what else? A mother."

"That's flimsy-"

"You confirmed it, Hayes. So shut up." Messalina smiled, calmly. "What sort of mother would dance around her daughter like that? Hannah has never been like that to me. You of all people should know that Hannah always regarded me with a mix of dismay at my ingratitude. But not you. You never seemed to be shaken even when Hannah was at her worst towards you. What else than a guilty mother?"

Hayes buried her face in her hands.

"Hannah was an orphan, Hayes." Shepard sipped her coffee. "You abandoned her. Then you tried to work off your guilt. But a leopard never changes its spots, do they? When matters got worse, with me causing trouble, you turned back to your old habits. You discarded her. Again."

Hayes remained silent; Messalina savored the moment, relishing.

"A friend of mine told me a tale, of how his father tried to kill him." Messalina shrugged. "At first, I related to him. I replaced his father with Hannah, and easily slipped into his shoes. But Wrex is a good old soul, nothing as vicious as me. His father was an estranged power hungry old man. My mother, while cynical and silly, was still my mother. My mother would never do anything to harm me. So, you slipped, Hayes."

Messalina sat up, poking at Hayes who kept her face buried.

"We're not like you, Hayes." Messalina teased. "We'd never abandon each other. Hate her or love her, she's still my Mother. Something, I believe, you will never understand."

Hayes glared up at Shepard, her makeup blurred with the torrent of tears.

"You don't understand, Messalina!" Hayes implored. "You don't know how difficult it is, to be a Mother."

Messalina laughed, genuinely amused. "That's the most ludicrous piece of crap I've heard all year. Go shove it up your ass where it belongs with the rest of your shitty lies."

"I have a fleet to care for! I had men and women of the service under my command!"

"I know a woman," Messalina's face hardened. "who could do it all."

"And what have you to speak of for your atrocities?" Hayes shot back. "Your vile war crimes. You are pushing us to the brink of war. What can you say of a mother who birthed a Murderer?"

Messalina shrugged. "You're becoming boring, Hayes. A one-note song. I've done explaining myself to you. Go off and delude yourself, as much as you want."

"You're the one deluding yourself, Messlina!" Hayes slammed her fist down, angrily. "Ancient robots, by God! You're crazy. Cycles of destruction! If you could only hear yourself."

"I'm tired of convincing you and your cronies, Hayes." Messalina turned away, picking up her book.

Hayes, seeing that Messalina had begun to act as if she was no longer in the room, warily got up.

"I'm sorry about Hannah... I'm sorry, Messalina, grand-daughter."

"No you aren't." Messalina replied.

* * *

"Eva Core... Eva Core... " Hannah muttered to herself.

The face that appeared on her screen was different from the one Liara had sent her.

"This is probably the Eva Core you remember, Mom." Liara was on the screen again. "She was an associate of the person suspected to have started Cerberus. The Cerberus Manifesto also credits her name as one of the authors."

Hannah nodded. "John... Messalina's father, served as a Marine for General Williams. He mentioned them to me. General Williams believed that the Turians had executed the writers, but with the Cerberus Manifesto, later listing their names, John believed that one of them was alive. I don't think that one is Eva Core, though."

"The Alias reeks of Cerberus involvemen-" alarms began blaring over behind Liara.

"What's that!" Hannah jumped from her seat. "Liara!"

Liara hurriedly glanced behind her. "I have to go, Mom."

"No!" Hannah cried. A feeling of dread overwhelmed her as Liara echoed Messalina's own words as she had begged her daughter to return home to her. The screen was replaced by static.

Milque hurried over to her, placing a calming hand on her shoulders.

"Everything alright, Ma'am?"

"Call Admiral Hackett, Milque." Hannah tried to calm herself. "I think something terrible has happened on Mars."


	23. Invasion

**Invasion**

-June, 2186

"You've heard all that?" Hayes glared at Ashley Williams, as she exited Messalina's cell. But her glare was nothing compared to the disgust that crossed Ashley's face. The young officer glared at her, balled fists, barely containing herself.

"Of course I have." Ashley replied coldly. Ashley turned to leave.

"Stop right there, Williams!" Hayes called after her. "Where do you think you're going?"

"The Truth." was all that Ashley replied, as she turned the corner and disappeared.

Tired, and exhausted from her ordeal, Hayes sat down on the floor against the wall. She wiped her tears and opened her compact, correcting her makeup.

An urgent call intruded her private moment. It was her yeoman.

"Sorry to disturb you, Admiral." The yeoman apologized quickly. "You're needed back in orbit. Condition Red. Major reports coming in from the Batarian front, ma'am."

Hayes nodded. "I'll be up immediately. Prep the fleet for launch. Contact all flotillas to regroup."

"Aye, aye, Admiral."

So, it's begun, Hayes thought to herself, the War with the Batarians.

* * *

"All Fleets have been commanded to deploy to their Emergency Counter Invasion stations." The Strategics aide informed him. Steven Hackett grumbled as he stubbed out his cigar. Smoking was not exactly allowed on Alliance vessels. Some of his officers had cautiously suggested that he quit his addiction to the ancient habit. They never did that twice.

"I don't tolerate idiocy on my ship, Major." Hackett coughed as he sat up. "I want all fleets prepped and ready around Earth. I have no plans on going to Arcturus."

"But sir-" The Major was cut short by a venomous glare from the Admiral.

"We won't stand a chance divided!" Hackett blared. "Where's Anderson?"

"Admiral Anderson reports to have arrived at Vancouver HQ, Admiral." the communications aide reported.

"Open a line."

Anderson's face soon appeared on the view screen, curtly saluting Hackett. Hackett returned the salute, immediately pressing forward. Anderson looked tired and worn out from his hurried trip from the Citadel.

"Did you get Shepard?"

"I just got here, and you know it!" Anderson spat.

Hackett rolled his eyes. "I know that."

"The Defense Committee has scheduled another hearing-" Anderson sighed.

"David," Hackett groaned tiredly.

"I would like to spring her from jail myself, Steven. But I'm just one man; you should have sent a platoon, if that's what you wanted."

"Batarians are a riot, David." Hackett informed him. "The reports are flooding in in a jumbled mess."

"Do you think it's what Shepard warned us about?" Anderson's face was replaced with a sudden grim urgency.

"I need Shepard up and running out there, David." Hackett complained. "I've already got a report from Hannah that there something up on Mars. I haven't been able to contact Doctor T'Soni. Things are starting to blow up everywhere, and I can't have Shepard enjoying it out on a soft plushy bed. Shoot the damned Defense Committee if you have to. I want Shepard."

Despite the idiocy of his demands, Anderson seemed to agree heartily, to the dismay of everyone else who listened in on the exchange.

"I hear you." Anderson nodded, flashing his sidearm. "I'm fed up with this shit, anyway."

"See you in hell, David." Hackett grinned a wide and ugly smile that cracked at his facial scar.

"Probably getting there before you." Anderson grumbled as he signed off.

Hackett lighted another cigar. He wanted to send men to Mars. He wanted to send a battalion down to storm the prison. But right now, he wasn't even sure if his fleet would survive.

The Communications aide reported in, nervously. "Admiral Hayes of the Second fleet reports entering entering jumping range of the Charon Relay. She's asking when you plan to return to Arcturus, sir."

Hackett studied the deployment reports. First fleet, the largest fleet had been called in from Arcturus to defend Earth, joining the reserve Fourth fleet which usually guarded Earth alone. The Second fleet had left for Arcturus to join the Third fleet.

"We'll never be able to face the Reapers with all the fleets dispersed." Hackett mumbled to himself.

"Sir?" the Operations aide asked cautiously.

"Take us to Arcturus." Hackett sighed, relenting. If the Reapers intended to invade Earth, they would have to pass the Arcturus Relay. With three fleets, he hoped it was enough.

* * *

"Fifth fleet has just appeared through the relay, Ma'am." The ship's captain reported.

The Everest had formed into a large entrapment wing, before Arcturus station. It would serve as the spearhead of the battle, with the smaller Third Fleet augmenting its wings, and Fifth fleet defending Arcturus station itself. Ever since the Skyllian Blitz, Emily Hayes had been the front-woman of defense against the Batarians. The Alliance had grown soft in recent years, depending on smoothing diplomatic relationships with the Citadel, relying heavily on the Turians. She had warned Earth about alien dependent tactics. It was only fitting now, at the end of her career, that she would face her old enemy.

"Tell Hackett to hurry into formation." Hayes growled.

Ashley Williams had disappeared into the maze of the Intelligence HQ. She was missing her Top Marine. She would have to order a disciplinary hearing after this mess. She regretted losing Ashley, but the woman had made up her choice. It was a brash and undisciplined choice, but young marines these days seemed to be rushing in to play the hero left and right.

"Zorya!" A tactical officer shouted. "Zorya is down!"

Zorya was only two jumps from Arcturus. A concerned look crossed over Hayes. The Batarians shouldn't be able to progress so fast. It had only been a matter of hours ago that they first received reports from the Migrant fleet that they sighted Batarian activity outside the Hoc system.

"What do you mean down?" Hayes snapped.

"Comm silence from Zorya Colony has gone silent. Civilian channels are also a dud. Not even a ping, Admiral."

Zorya was a heavily industrialized planet with a hundred million colonists. Complete radio silence was impossible.

"Equipment failure?" Hayes scratched her head.

"All systems are green, Admiral."

Just then another officer shouted in. "Elysium!" he cried, almost screaming. "Elysium, is gone, Admiral."

"That's impossible!" Hayes slammed her fist down. The officers of the CIC began running frantically to and fro, trying to confirm silence from Zorya and Elysium, trying to check equipment, trying to ping the Relays for activity. Tactical officers began checking in attack wings. Flotilla commanders began rapidly chattering over the channels.

"Admiral, look!"

At first it was mere specks of activity from the Arcturus Relay, which had been floating silently behind the Fifth fleet as they made their way to station points. Now the Mass Relay began spinning with renewed activity, far more rapidly than when Hackett's fleet had appeared.

"Intercept course!" Hayes ordered. "Get the Fifth behind us and cover their tracks."

The Second fleet began moving forward. Faster scout flotillas, consisting of Normandy class frigates hurrying ahead, smaller snub-fighters flying further.

"Have Third fleet drop back to Arcturus. The fifth fleet won't get there in time."

The forward ships had barely overtaken the Fifth fleet, when the enemy ships began peppering the backdrop of space. Scanners showed a large number of vessels already appearing at the jump point, but the Mass Relays kept spinning rapidly.

"How the hell-" Hayes looked up at the Battle map in awe. Frontier vessels were now relaying tactical information, then immediately became immediately silenced. The readouts of the enemy, earned by the sacrifice of those scout ships, appeared on the screen.

And the image froze Hayes into shock.

"Enemy has begun attack!" "We've lost Flotilla 15!" "Mayday, Mayday!" Frantic calls, both actual and transmitted crackled around her. But battle screen displayed the enemy number in only increasing counts. Each image relayed by a dying fighter pilot or frigate captain showed the same alien crab like vessel again and again, before fiery red beams terminated the signal.

"We need to regroup!" Hackett's face suddenly appeared on an emergency hotline. "Retreat Arcturus, Admiral!"

Hayes hurriedly terminated Hackett's signal.

"Damage report!" Hayes screamed.

"Enemies everywhere!" someone cried. The front view screen lit up with the actual visual readings of space, but few stars were visible. The enormous alien dreadnoughts, enormous in both size and number, had been able to completely blot out the stars.

* * *

"Vanguards are lost, Admiral." The tactical aide, dazed and disbelieving his own reports, hurried to Hackett's side.

"Where's the Third fleet headed?" Hackett slammed his fist down, staring up at the image of the Enemy ships. It had taken half his fleet to defeat a single one of them. Now, tactical was reporting that there were roughly eleven hundred of them.

"They've begun attacking the Reapers, Admiral." The strategic aide reported. "Comm signals report they've lost almost half their fleet."

"Who's in command?"

"Admiral Singh's ship is still afloat, Admiral."

"Tell them to fall back!" Hackett ordered. "All ships fall back. Get us out of here! Now!"

"Sir! The Second Fleet!"

On the tactical map, the remains of the Second fleet was now completely overwhelmed by the Reapers. Hackett watched in horror as the signal from the flag ship Everest blinked rapidly, then disappeared.

* * *

Emily Hayes closed her eyes, feeling the calmness of weightlessness envelop her.

As a child she had loved the stars. They were always mysterious. Immense heat that desperately tried to break the dark and cold vacuum of space.

To join the stars! It was something she had desperately wanted to do. After a slew of model rockets and dreams of space, she had been able to join Earth's first venture into the darkness. She had been a member of the blessed generation. In her career alone she had seen Earth widen its perspective from a solitary rock basking in the sun, to a great Empire that spanned thousands of light years.

Magical biotics, weird looking aliens, ancient technologies, they peppered her memories. It had been an exciting life, full of adventure. Humanity was flinging itself across the stars in the horde, and she couldn't leave that behind.

Not because of a mistake.

She was a soldier. She could go through any difficulties tossed at her. But she could never face being held back, while everyone else claimed her dream as part of her own. At first, she had thought she could raise the child. She had even relinquished her duty for a while to give birth. But when she finally held the crying baby in her arms, in the absence of a father, while the whole world began to forget about her, it didn't quite feel it was worth it.

She had lived for that dream. It was a mistake, a one night stand with a nameless stranger. And now this unwitting baby, bawling rudely, had ruined it for her. Every will of her mind strained itself from keeping her from flinging the child to the floor. She dried of milk immediately; it was a sign. Across the raining streets of Manhattan she found a shelter, hidden enough from the eyes of the street. She had chosen the orphanage, for its obscurity in location than anything else. It was a sin she would live with, but it was worth it.

"Yes, it was worth it." she tried to calm herself.

She saw the Everest, ruptured and cracking into pieces. Her beloved ship of decades, the flagship of her fleet, was splintering. Far away, she could see the Carrier Einstein, trying to empty its fighters before it imploded. The Second Fleet was dying.

The child had grown up properly, she reasoned with herself. She had tried to look up the child when she finally returned from a decade long career into deep space colonization. Inheriting the bright mind of her mother, and handsome rugged features of the stranger she had invited to bed all those years ago, Hannah had become a beautiful young woman. It was a sign, she told herself, that she had done right in the eyes of the Galaxy. The stars had granted her wish, taken up her sacrifice.

The pain in her legs returned as she cautiously reached for the stump that had had once extended to her feet. Phantom pain. She had heard about it. How one would often imagine pain, as if the lost limb was still there.

She knew about Hannah's difficulties. The girl couldn't afford to live on her own. Despite the loads of scholarships, bureaucracy simply did not allow Hannah a life without eventually joining the military. But the girl wanted it, Hayes reasoned. Hannah, like her mother, soldiered on through her difficulties, earning a degree, and then joining a science mission into space. She turned out fine, Hayes told herself. The pain in her severed leg returned. She imagined twitching her toes.

She was annoyed. She had lost a limb, so she shouldn't be feeling pain in her toes. She had lost a family, so what was with all this guilt? They were severed from her.

The coldness of space began creeping up her suit.

"I'm loosing air." Hayes muttered to herself. The seal of her battle armor didn't close over the severed leg. It was inviting death through the rupture.

Just like Messalina. The Unwanted child of the Unwanted child. Like a greek prince of an ancient fable, karma had returned to bite her. The severed stump was not only giving her pain, but was now killing her. Messalina, the angel of death, was living up to her nickname.

Alone, Emily Hayes felt her heart tug at her, closed her eyes in pain, and never opened them again.


	24. Heirlooms

**Heirlooms**

- April, 2164

"What can you see?"

"Two Turians. Bostran Turians, related, possibly brothers, at least cousins." The girl's hair was tied back into a pony tail, as she would keep it for the rest of her life. Her eyes were covered with Mark 2 Umbra visors, which had to be manually adjusted to display distance and estimable compounding wind drag or infrared, but not both. They served their sole purpose as they were produced in children's size, being a relic of the Earth Wars, when nations within the Systems Alliance fought each other for land and resources. Her voice was steady, calm and almost monotonous, mimicking the VI of the targeting computer. "The elder, judging by the side frills, about mid thirties. The younger, early thirties, with extensive surgery. Military background or heavy merc duties. The elder, not so much."

"And?" The elder man's calm voice gently encouraged her further. Thick scent of spiced coffee filled the lightless room they shared. But both of them were accustomed to the darkness.

"They're waiting for someone. The elder is checking his omni tool frequently. Not likely communicating, too short." The girl paused a moment, gathering her thoughts. Deft fingers drummed across the controls of her visors, its old lenses straining to report enhancement as great as its fading technology could provide. "This is no simple meeting, granpa."

The elder man arched his eyebrows, but erstwhile chuckling at his granddaughter's enthusiasm that was likely to report some imaginative adventure.

"That so, Messy?" Alan Shepard chuckled.

"It's Valerie, Grandpa!" the girl pouted.

"Messy suits you." Alan chuckled as he picked up his own visors and stared across the streets.

"Alliance insignia on the tools, Grandpa." the girl pointed out. "They've traveled down the main road but tried to make erratic turns. But this time they're pausing a bit too long, avoiding the surveillance cameras. They're waiting for someone to hand over information!"

Alan Shepard began studying the Turians, at first to tell his granddaughter where she got things wrong, but then he began to look more closely. As she had told him, the nervous one was flickering on and off an omnitool that projected data emblazoned with the Alliance fleet insignia. They were avoiding surveillance cameras, though in an amateurish fashion. They weren't necessarily Turian civilians, the make out of their wardrobe betrayed current military issue lapels, like active combatants on leave.

Usually he would have dismissed anything like this. Their evening games of 'spy-craft' usually served its purpose to induce his granddaughter to study harder. But since his son's death seven years ago, and Hannah having been absent for well over an year without visiting, Alan had grown restless. His ten year old grand daughter seemed intent on spying on the Turians, and Alan decided to stretch his muscles, and pick up the milk on the way back.

"Keep me posted, HQ." He smiled, as he fished out his naval jacket.

Excited by the turn of events, Messalina almost squeeled before she caught herself and saluted.

"Aye, aye, Admiral."

* * *

The Arcturus station sported day and night cycles, to help adapt humans to space. It also adapted the standard galactic day, which meant every day was 28 hour-ish, with 20 hour days, 100 minute hours, 100 second minutes and ticking away at two seconds a 'human second'. The darkness also brought with the station a relative increase in crime, especially around the lower level housing districts where the bachelor flats bordered along the outsourced labor apartments and stocking areas.

Hannah had barely managed to bend restrictions to let her father-in-law and her daughter live in their single person apartment from Alan's retirement and John's widow fund. The irregular income from Alan's projects had dwindled as of late, and Hannah's recent CO had kicked Valerie Messalina off the ship. Hannah had barely retained her position through Emily Hayes, a family friend, on the condition that she should show her initiative by participating in the deep space colonization project.

It was easy taking Messy to school. The girl was punctual, did her own bed, did both their breakfasts, and even fed the fish before going off. The difficult part was finding a school for Messy, as most of the men and women working out on Arcturus had left their families on Earth. True 'Spacers', as they were calling those without ties to Earth, were emerging but still rare.

Alan crumpled his packet of cigarettes as he hobbled down the alley, planning to pass the Turians on the way to the convenience store, three blocks down the road to the Hub. He had spent most of his retirement getting John through Business school, but the boy had joined the 'Fight for Shanxi' during the early hooplah, only to get himself killed. Alan had managed to pay off the student loans, barely to find himself without a house on Earth. He would have died if it hadn't been for Hannah's strength and resolve to see her daughter get a better life. All Alan could do was play along, now, and babysit the girl as much as he could. But, lately with his hip in a mess, he found himself relying more and Messy than the other way around.

He passed the Turians with a nod and a good-natured smile, to which they seemed jumpy and alarmed. It was a short passing by, but Alan had noted that a few of Messy's assumptions were indeed correct. Close observation showed that they were actually from the Bahtrik region of Pallaven, from where most of the Bostran colonists originated from. However, Alan also noticed concealed sidearms, which screamed illegal activity. The omni-tool, while passing, had been turned off, but he decided he'd have a better look on the way back, possibly trying a different route.

After he had purchased the milk and cereal, he left a note for his former assistant, Lieutenant Kahoku, who was still serving at the Intelligence. The young man had been kind enough to alert his former boss of upcoming potential outsourcing analyst projects that Alan could handle, and Alan had favorably dropped in interesting tidbits that could help Kahoku along with his career.

When he finished sending the note concerning suspected Turians with Bahtrik face paint, armed and possibly dealing with fleet intel, he looked up to see that the lamp post where the Turians had lingered was now vacant. He hobbled on, passing the place where the Turians had been.

On the ground was a small flickering button, flashing orange and white LED lights. He reached down to pick it up, observing the small button curiously. He could see that it sported an emblem of sorts; a hexagonal elongated orange flanked by two similar black hexagons. Out of habit, he photographed the button, before pocketing it to move on.

He was barely five steps away, passing a dimly lit back door to a storage warehouse, when he felt a cold metalic tip of the barrel of a gun.

"Don't look, old man." the voice from the darkness was soft. Alan couldn't see the face.

"I... I'm just passing by... please I have no money..." Alan's voice trembled, as his left hand flex his grip around his cane.

"Slowly raise your hands and enter the building."

"Please..." Alan begged in a trembling voice as he slowly approached the darkness.

"Nice and easy, step inside-"

The voice was cut off as Alan whipped his cane around, and cracked the gun out of the assailant. The pistol spiraled out of the assailant's grip and skidded a few feet away. Alan gripped his cane with both hands and landed a strike down on the man in the darkness. But the man was not there. He had disappeared into the building. Alan picked up the pistol from the ground, tossing his cane aside, proceeded into the building.

The long corridor bent slightly toward the right, with light coming through the crack in the doorway. Alan could see the door creaking faintly. Cautiously he pushed the door open with his foot, just an inch to get a glimpse of what was inside.

On the floor was a body of one of the Turians, prone, a pool of blood gathering around him. Alan couldn't see the second Turian. The Omnitool would emit too much light to take readings. Alan ran his options through his head. He wasn't in his best shape, but he had managed to disarm an assailant. It would be good enough if he could leave. Messy was waiting at home.

He closed his eyes, thinking of his grand daughter, and slowly backed away from the light. Kahoku would have a field day, tomorrow. He'll have a good night's rest, for now.

He slowly turned to leave, trying to make as little noise as possible, when someone suddenly appeared before him. It was a face he recognized from the time in his services. A young lieutenant who had already garnered glaring recommendations. The handsome young man flashed a smile, not the least bit surprised to find Alan there.

"Armistan?"

* * *

It had been ten hours since Grandpa had left the building, and it was now morning. A security officer had come and gone last night, simply taking notes, and promising to tell her if he found anything. He had been gentle and polite, as she could expect anyone to be so at midnight. But he had also told her that a missing person's case was rare on Arcturus station, and that a missing person's search only began after 12 hours.

Messalina had returned to the apartment, spamming every contact and emergency hot line she could think of, but everyone had responded that they would look into it in the morning. School time had already passed and she had now begun receiving calls from school questioning why she was missing out.

Finally a chime went off at the door, with the security officer from last night.

The man looked a bit frustrated as he made his way into the apartment, himself. He was followed by Turian military officers whom he offered a seat, himself, before waving Messalina over.

Without explanation, the officer flashed a picture of her grandfather from his omni-tool.

"Is this your grandfather, girl?"

"Yes, sir. That's my grandfather." Messalina replied warily. "Did you find him?"

Without answering her questions, one of the Turian officers interrupted.

"Was your grandfather a member of the Alliance intelligence?"

The security officer looked agitated. "Sir, the man was retired. He had no recent dealings with the Alliance intelligence."

"My investigations show otherwise." the Turian replied calmly. "Tell me, girl, did your father die during the incident at Relay 314?"

Messalina looked to the human officer for help, but the officer simply urged her on. "Shanxi, girl. Was your father killed during Shanxi?"

"Yes, officer. My father John-"

"I think I get the gist of it." The Turian officer began jotting notes. "I want all the man's files from his computer at the Turian Embassy before noon."

The Turians rose to leave. The human officer, groveling, followed them to the door.

"We assure you, officers, this was not sanctioned by Alliance Intelligence."

"We'll be the judge of that." The Turians turned the corner and left.

The officer returned to the room and seated himself, burying his face in his hands.

"Do you know what your grandfather did, girl?"

"Did you find him?" snarled Messalina, finally annoyed with the sudden turn of events.

The man glared up at her. "He was found in the alley five blocks away, drunk and disheveled. He shot two Turians at point blank range. He had a brawl with them, it seems. The local bar keep said he left after causing a mess. He's still unconscious but he'll come through. Nothing serious, for him. But he'll have to answer for the murders."

* * *

- July, 2164

The Citadel seemed to sparkle. The Presidium bustling with activity.

A woman with flaming red hair and her daughter stood overlooking the extravagant lakes, neither in the mood for bewilderment. Each packed a luggage carrier beside them and stood in silence.

Alan never recalled what happened that night. The store clerk where he usually picked up necessities denied he had ever been there. But the barkeep of a strip club testified that Alan had picked a fight with two Turians before leaving the bar with them. The investigations closed rapidly, with the Alliance apologizing to the Turian hierarchy for the incident.

Alan eventually never fully recovered from the trauma, never was able to speak. A paralysis had settled in from an aneurysm that had ruptured during the brawl. As if to support the police reports, Alan suddenly found himself enjoying his liquor. His condition rapidly deteriorated until he passed away last week. Hannah had only been able to arrive from deep space last month, resigning her duties in the Second Fleet, to take care of her disabled father-in-law an daughter. But still, it had been two whole months during which Messalina had to witness up close her grandfather's decay.

After his funeral, to which only Emily Hayes had attended, Hannah cleared out Alan's belongings and took her daughter on a long trip to the Citadel. Messalina and Hannah had never been too close, but now they rarely spoke to each other. They never quarreled, but to everyone else, it seemed that they merely weathered each other's presence.

They had packed their bags and without a word, arrived at the spot. Not knowing where to go, they stood there observing the fountain making ripples in the water. The extravagance of the center of the Galaxy tried to overwhelm them, but they simply stared in absence of thought.

* * *

- July, 2186

Overlooking the lake of the Citadel Presidium, the same spot where she had stood with her mother, neither of them knowing where to go, Messalina Shepard joined Liara T'Soni with a cup of coffee in each hand.

Messalina paused for a moment, recalling the time so many years ago, when she barely reached the railings. Liara was working on something, as always. Reports flooded in like Santa's mail to the Shadow Broker. Even when they barely found time to be together, Liara would rush to her console to check up on things, issue orders, archiving.

"The Volus, Barla Von-"

"I remember." Messalina groaned as she set down the cups, kicking back. "You could congratulate me, you know."

"What for?" Liara looked genuinely puzzled, as she picked up her coffee, then suddenly remembering to pour copious amounts of syrup into it. Messalina winced at the liberty Liara took with her own brew.

"Harbinger sprung me from prison. It's good to have friends." Messalina remarked dryly before grabbing Liara's hand. "That's enough syrup."

"Oh." Liara put down the syrup container. "I don't think the Reapers purposefully-"

Messalina chuckled. "No, I bet not."

"You're joking, again." Liara sighed. "Have you talked to your mother?"

Messalina nodded. "Of course. Missed me by a couple of hours, though. Hackett asked her to join the Crucible project. She'd already cleared her office when we arrived. James knows her body guard, though."

"Lieutenant Milque."

Messalina had grown accustomed to Liara knowing everything, so she suppressed a smile to simply nod.

"She left me something in her office, though."

"Oh?" Liara opened her pad again, trying to see if she received additional alerts for the Crucible data.

But Messalina reached over and pulled her pad away from her, safely out of reach. She fished her pocket to retrieve a small metal ring, plain and unadorned. Pulling Liara's hand close to hers, she placed the ring on her finger, and an identical one on her own.

Liara looked down at the ring, touching it gently. It was a simple round golden ring. It had seen years of use, but recently been resized to fit her perfectly.

Messalina sat back, satisfied with herself, sporting a wide grin.

"What do you think?" Messalina urged, drinking her coffee.

Liara looked up, blissful smile on her lips, slightly blushing.

"That was the most unromantic proposal, Shepard."

"Oh." Messalina frowned, scratching her head. "I thought about dropping it in your coffee, but I know how long it takes you to drink that."

"Thank you." Liara smiled. "I love you, too."

Messalina just smiled, as if she were patting herself on the back.

"Miranda couldn't be contacted." Liara sighed, still looking at her ring.

"I got in touch." Messalina shrugged. Miranda had spoken to her through a piggy backed communication in the solitude of the Spectre's Terminal. She had apologized for not being able to join Shepard, that pressing matters had emerged. The look in Miranda's eyes was in stark contrast to the bright zealous agent she had first met. Miranda spoke about Oriana, and how keeping her remaining sister safe was too important for her to let go.

"I see." Liara nodded, knowingly. "Well, I suppose it's just us, then."

"Not just us," Messalina smiled, reaching out to hold Liara's hand. "Not any more."


	25. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

- November, 2186

Messalina felt herself fading away as she fell through the energy of the Catalyst/Crucible.

Death was easier to accept when you knew it was coming. Zaeed had called it karma. The one that comes to bite you in the back. She had to disagree. Despite all the terrors and difficulties she had faced in life, this was an embrace.

Despite her short existence, Messalina wanted to believe that she had left a mark in the world. In the hearts of those that were close to her, and even to those she had never met. Death was easier with friends. And despite her oncoming blindness, she was no longer lonely.

She always lived with a death wish on her mind. A wish to have all things come to an end. But she owed it to her friends who had gone before her, to others whom she have moved closer to death, and still others waiting for their turn to see the end of it all.

She was not in pain. No longer. It was warm, and tender.

Besides, it had always been her wish to join the stars.

* * *

- April, 2254

The warm breeze circling the Citadel grazed on Hannah's face as she looked over the lake from her favorite spot. A mug of coffee in her hand, she hadn't touched. It had been almost seventy years since Messalina had ended the Galactic plague that had been going on for Eons. They were now calling it the 'Symbiosis Event', and cults had sprung up around the galaxy, most notably the Hanar and its annoying high priest Opold. The cult had now firmly grounded itself as a firm religion based on pan-racial tolerance to all. It's major following were, of course, the Geth, who committed to the religion entirely as a collective. The only limitation that meandered in Hannah's mind to describe it as a cult, was the fact that most of its pantheon was still alive and kicking.

The Shepard Pantheon, as they were now called, visited the Citadel every year to honor their fallen Leader. Hannah had declined most visitations from them, as she only knew a few personally. Wrex had visited the other day with his wife and children. Liara, though fond of her godchildren, had been extremely annoyed when Wrex had named the son, Mess, and the daughters, Mordin and Garrus.

"Children," came the sudden scoffing husky voice of Aethyta. "Brace yourself, Hannah."

Hannah turned around to see that her grand daughter, Valerie, had brought the Krogans to escort Hannah to the Centennial of Messalina's birthday. Hannah took a deep breath and stood up as Aethyta supported her arm. Despite being several centuries older, Aethyta remained physically and biotically strong. The two often bickered on how to raise Valerie through Liara's busy schedule, but they had managed along well. Valerie chose to be a physician, and remained distant from the violent past of her parents and grand parents, mentored under the guidance of Doctor Michel. Though despite her outwardly gentle nature, like her mother, Hannah often caught the extreme stubbornness that reminded her of Messalina.

Urdnot Mess was wearing his grandfather's rebuilt armor. The enormous Krogan had tried living up to his name, hunting Thresher Maw along the Krogan frontier where terraforming was taking place. He had grown to be a formidable leader of the Krogan, following the footsteps of his battlemaster, Urdnot Grunt. He barked orders to his minions to forma close honor guard around the Aethyta, Hannah and Valerie as he escorted them to the Presidium fountains, under the statue of Messalina.

Messalina's statue was towering. Built by the Reapers before they dispersed, some said that the green eyes of the statue never faded. Departing from convention, Messalina's statue was sitting on the ground, her favorite Mantis Rifle over her shoulder, and facing outward toward the opening of the Citadel. The striking likeness, and the natural pose haunted Hannah too much. The Reapers had done too good a job in capturing her likeness, as if her will still coursed through their veins. Indeed, the green hue that had enveloped every Organic and Synthetic had slowly faded away. The joined empathy of consciousness remained, yet now only the wandering stray Reaper vividly glowed of emerald sheen.

The podium was set up, and the Krogan had to push their way through the tens of thousands that had gathered there. Hannah had only agreed to attend as long as Opold and his fanatics were kept at bay. As she passed she could see the Hanar among the spectators. On the podium sat Messalina's friends, at least those who survived. Wrex and Bakara were already there. They had become the closest to the Shepard family following Messalina's passing, or ascension as Opold would say. Among the crowd were multitude of Krogan. Hannah recalled the colossal stone monument that the Krogans had erected honoring Messalina and Mordin Solus. The Krogan, though never deigning to join Opold's cult, had began worshiping Messalina on their own, in their own way. Their blood lust had been deflected to hewing stone, as Tuchanka was now famous for its architecture.

Jack Zero and Miranda Lawson were also attending. Jack had denied her lastname that Liara had presented to her and chose to remain 'Zero', which Hannah had remarked sounded like a soft drink. Miranda had joined the Alliance Intelligence, but had remained distant. Liara had told her that Messalina and Miranda had been close, like sisters, but she had changed since the Invasion, only grudgingly appearing once in a while from her seclusion and routine. Zaeed Massani had passed on a few years ago, and in his empty seat sat his beloved rifle Jesse. Unlike his wish to have completed his circle of Karma, Zaeed had died peacefully on his villa on Eden Prime under natural causes, attended by his friends. Hannah hadn't been present, but Liara had told her that he had come to peace with his life, shedding a tear in gratitude that the Galaxy had shown him.

Probably the most astounding turn of events following the Symbiosis, was the cure of the Ardat-Yakshi. The collective wills of those surrounding them had allowed the pureblood mutants to control their urges. Other members of Messalina's close friends also nodded fondly at Hannah as she was led to her seat by Valerie. Valerie held Hannah's hand closely as the two stared out at the multitude of guests. Geth, newer Synthetics, Quarians, Krogan, Turians, Salarians, Drell, Hanar, Volus, Elcor, humans, Asari, Military, Civilians; Hannah was surprised to know that they were all selected guests, invited on basis of representation.

Hannah noticed that Garrus Vakarian was there. She had only heard of him, fleeting rumors related by Chloe Michel once in a while when she visited Valerie. He had disappeared following Messalina's death, and rumors of the Archangel along the Terminus had erupted. Once in a while he would resurface on Rannoch, but would soon disappear again. Now, age had caught up with him, and the wealthy Turian had declined the position of Primarch and remained with his life partner, Tali. Tali, on the other hand, had maintained her on-again-off-again relationship with the Turian, tilled the soil, and remained a leader of the Geth-Quarian community.

When the guests were seated and Liara finished her opening remarks, followed by Wrex, the Geth, Tali, and finally the human Councilor, Vernor, who had, to Hannah's dismay, cried, Valerie stepped forward, to introduce Hannah.

"Thank you, Valerie." Hannah embraced her grand daughter and looked out on the crowd. "Thank you all, for being her friend."


	26. Author's note Afterward

Author's Note on** Hannah and her Daughter**

I would have liked to address some reviewer responses and comments earlier during the process.

I understand that Fanfiction is generally more personal both to the writer and the reader, especially in wide and flourishing fan based cultures like the US or Japan. Strictly speaking, despite its length Fanfiction is never generally a stand alone process. Re-reading Hannah and her Daughter, makes me understand that the large missing gaps that pervade the story would always launch the uninitiated into a complete disarray, while even the most staunchest Mass Effect fans would sometimes miss what I had presumed to be a common experience.

As such I wish to apologize on the haphazard manner in which this story was put together. It had initially begun as a personal project to close my chapter in life with the experience of Mass Effect. I had initially wished to write about all my favorite topics in the series, and the beginning of it all was naturally, the Role Play of a strong, reserved, female Shepard that had been my main character ever since my first play through.

I had always imagined my Shepard to have a mother and an absence of a father. She was smart but not an intellectual, due to a combination of growing up as a military brat and her natural cool headedness. As with all my RPGs, my Shepard was a long range DPS character with Stealth, be it a rogue, sniper, operative etc. Naturally I gave her an Intelligence based Military back ground. During my time in service, I had a good relationship with the Intelligence branch, where most of their briefings ended up with analysis of pictures and sightings and what they meant to the overall scheme of things. Hence, my Shepard was an extremely skilled Intelligence branch officer who entered Special Forces training. She became mostly a reactionary where things were put in motion, weighing information carefully before implementing any plan. I liked the fact that she always contacted her mother, and how some of her mother's in-game dialogue often bordered on typically embarrassing parental tropes. Hence, having a mother to a Space-Jesus type character who was a woman, was eventually the theme of my story. A mixture of "Antonia's line" (Emily-Hannah-Messalina), a bit of disappointed parenthood and an interplay of generations (Emily-Hannah, Hannah-Messalina), a Salvation and Sacrifice story (space Jesus), and how the relationships were the only thing that mattered in her choice (Friends, the reactionary character of Messalina).

I have received a review which criticized how I killed of my main character in the end. I am a Christian, and I appreciate the theme of Sacrifice and Salvation, and despite that almost every playthrough I ended up destroying the Reapers just to get the "breathing scene", I chose to sacrifice Shepard in the story. Being at peace with the choices in life is difficult, and while we would often dream of a fairy tale ending, the term 'Happily ever after' only appeared recently even in traditional fairy tales, which were heavily edited to befit the consumerist culture that characterized the twentieth century. Old tales would often tell of the gruesome fate awaiting perpetrators, half felt victories where allies remained in unresolved limbo, and heroes that actually appeared more vengeful than what we would more easily swallow. Cinderella's sisters ends up with hacked off bloody ankles to fit the glass slippers, Seven dwarfs are left to live their life in the black forest, and little mermaids dissolve to bubbles, while the escapades of perky cats and mouse would even make Itchy and Scratchy cringe.

Hence, Miranda ends up losing her other sister, becoming the washed out form of who she once was. Emily dies without truly apologizing for who she was her entire life, and the damage she caused Hannah and Messalina. Alan Shepard is mysteriously framed of killing two Turians, spiraling into decrepitude and forcing Hannah to forgo her dreams and weigh resentment on Messalina. But the central theme is that despite all her difficulties, Hannah Shepard never abandoned Messalina. And like wise, and possibly because of that Messalina never sacrificed anyone but herself to achieve her goals. Well, almost anyone, since Kaidan dies in my story, and that forms another bristling resentment between Ashley and Messalina.

Meanwhile, I planned to write a lot about Garrus in this story, as I always saw him as the equal of Shepard. Even in-game he always eclipsed my character. I was always forced to choose someone else for my squad, and I eventually imagined that Garrus was always off doing his own parallel thing. Now I have begun writing my Garrus story, which will revolve around Garrus, his invalid mother, his resentful sister, his retired and powerless father, his friends in C-Sec, and why Garrus would never find a woman until the bright and cheerful, yet equally damaged Tali would appear in his life. I've decided to write from the view of on an outsider of Garrus's life, Chloe Michel. I plan to make it a longer story than Messalina's as I have to cover Pre-ME1 timeline through ME1, through Omega, and then Post ME3.

I am always grateful for the Readers and Reviewers, and any comment and any criticism is always appreciated.

I will keep this chapter posted to add and reply to any guest reviewers whom I cannot reply to by messages.

P.S. my updates have slowed down lately. I find that I usually cannot write more than 3000 words a day, and lately my real job is taking much of my words. Sorry.

-Rulid


End file.
